


Godless

by aamy871



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, HEAVY WHUMP, Love, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Whump, f/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 22:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aamy871/pseuds/aamy871
Summary: {based on the characters of the Rockstar video game series, 'Red Dead Redemption'}Wynona LaDue, the daughter of the most feared man in the Wild West, sets out on an expedition to find out who murdered her father; but with a reputation to uphold, finding the killer is harder than she first seemed. Soon, she learns to trust no-one, apart from one man who fills the whole in her heart and tears another one in it's place.





	1. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One

**_Chapter one_ ** _Horseshoe overlook_

_**Part One** _

_We were lucky to even get off the side of that wretched mountain without dying, and now the law are on to us, telling us 'we need to pay for what happened'. Dutch says this spot is perfect, but I don't know how long we will last here with the town not too far down the track. Word travels fast in towns like that_.

Arthur Morgan shut over his leather-bound journal, something he never left the camp without and shoved it into his worn satchel that hung across his dirtied clothes. The pencil that he carried with it fit snugly in the concave of yellowing paper and tattered leather, held on with a small strand of string. As he looked around, he saw nothing but exhausted individuals and a flurry of determined faces which reminded him of his own. He really ought to find a hobby. Dutch had something on his mind, even a man like Arthur could see that, but Van Der Linde was never a folk to talk about his troubles.

"Why don't we take a trip into town, eye up the folks down there?" Asked Morgan, catching the thinking man's attention from across the camp, his hat covered head craning around to get a look of Arthur. Van Der Linde thought for only a second before pushing himself from the post he slouched on with one foot.

"Why not? If we are going to be staying here, we may as well see who we are putting up with" He laughed, motioning for Arthur to follow him to where the horses had been hitched; on a makeshift station made from bound sticks. "No trouble down here, you hear?"

"Loud and clear, Dutch." Arthur mounted his horse, one he had tamed shortly after escaping Blackwater. His old one got shot in the knee, and they wouldn't have been able to get it the help it needed until the next town was reached and so they did what any humane person would do, and stuck a bullet in it's loyal head. The horse, who he had named Zeus for the time being, shifted underneath him, unused to all of Arthur's bodyweight.

"Mind if us two join? we are bored senseless sittin' 'round here all day" Asked John Marston, a long time friend and partner of both Arthur and Dutch, with Lenny by his side; he was one of the newer arrivals but Arthur had taken to him right away. An honest boy he thought, even though they had only rode together a handful of times. It was on a rare occasion that Arthur interacted with the camp-mates; he considered himself to be more of a lone wolf type, not the sort for camaraderie.

Arthur and Dutch exchanged a short look, "Of course". They all saddled up and so the four men began to ride the moderate dirt path to Valentine, their nearest town with a saloon, their horses well rested after a nights rest that they so desperately needed after getting off of the mountain. Arthur didn't mind the country around here, in fact, he rather enjoyed it. The sun set in a different place each night, bursting through the trees like a call for help before it died out. There were vast fields of green grass on either side of the tan track, the train tracks intercepting every once in a while. They rode in silence for the first half, ensuring there wasn't any Pinkertons around the area to follow them into town. But Arthur soon broke the silence. "Something troublin' you, Dutch?" Morgan caught up with his partner so the gang was now riding in a two by two formation. "I ain't seen you sulkin' like a little girl in god knows how long".

Van Der Linde took a deep breath, looking off into the distance at the nearing town. "You remember Amos LaDue? He was one of the first" Dutch looked to Arthur for an answer, which was only a nod of the head before continuing, "Sadie told me this mornin' that the poor bastard got murdered. O'Driscoll's boys, according to her."

"And you believe that?" Queried Arthur almost immediately. He had only met the man a few times in his younger years, but even Arthur felt afraid in his presence. Amos never struck any of his friends as the father type, not even Dutch. Which made Arthur think,  _I wonder what his kid ended up like?_

"Not for one second. You've met him, not the sort of man to let himself get outwitted by some degenerates. That's for sure. Last time I saw him, he had a young daughter, must be just a tad younger than you. It's a shame for the lass..." He trailed off at the end of the sentence, clearly hitting a nerve within himself, "I'm the only one left. of my first gang, I mean"

"I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing" The people of Valentine began to look at the formation as they rode into the beginning of town, judgemental looks on their faces. Curious faces turned to stare, those who were out on the streets stared with pessimism written in their eyes, something that Arthur was never very keen on. "Not very welcoming, I see" Arthur mumbled under his breath, making Dutch chuckle. The wandering inquisitions of the men who wandered the roads angered him, he wished he could tell them all to sod off but drawing attention wasn't something they needed.

"Town-folk like this very rarely are". They reached the town-centre, random shops scattered throughout, with a hotel directly next to the saloon. Convenient, thought Arthur, climbing off of his steed and hitching it on a proper post beside John, Lenny and Dutch. An eerie silence flooded through the streets of Valentine. The red dirt paths covered in thick mud from the rain that had a lack of footprints. People retreated into their homes, shops and farmhouses if they could with the man-made buildings housing their fears of change. "Right fellers, drinks are on me, to celebrate"

"Celebrate what?" asked John, hitching his horse and scaling the three, wide, wooden steps that led to the door of the saloon.

The question made Dutch think for only a second, before turning with a happy smirk on his withering face. "A new beginning".Arthur entered the saloon first, pushing the swinging shutters inwards and watching the people turn to look at them. Their voices grew to nothing more than a whisper as they entered, looking down their noses at the outlaws. The daylight shone in the windows, illuminating the floating dust in rays of light, almost artistically. Arthur would have been impressed if the place wasn't so clearly unclean. The foul stench of body odour and beer repulsed Arthur, he could tell he wasn't going to like it here, but he said nothing for civility sake. The piano continued, however, adding an uncomfortable accompaniment to their awkward encounter with the town-folk. "4, please." Dutch asked the barman, letting the rest of the riders sit down amongst the commoners who were certainly judging their every move. sceptical looks were exchanged with the 3 men who said not a thing. Arthur grunted lightly in dissatisfaction. "If folk keep starin' I might have to give them a reason to stare" He spoke loudly so that the surrounding tables could hear him. They all turned away, shocked expressions covering their cowardly faces. The chatter began to pick up once again, drowning out any awkwardness that may have been. Dutch finally came and sat down, slamming the 4 tankards of beer on to the worn oak table. He took a swig of his drink before raising it high in the air, "To new beginnings, my brothers"

 

_**Part Two** _

 

 

The gang sat in the saloon, laughing as they drunk and trying to forget about the law and the rival gang that were on their back. The people who came and went seemed to be getting used to having outlaws hanging around their parts, with only a few glances being exchanged every hour or so. Arthur shared a small laugh with the gang, letting his troubles go for only a second. But he was wrong to. He usually was.

A sharp gunshot echoed throughout the town, resonating through the ears of every bystander within the radius of 2 miles. They leaped under tables, covering with their shaking hands over their watchful heads and for a second they thought they were all done for, until the horses galloped in, their hooves hitting the dense mud like a bass drum. Arthur had little time for cowards, they were nothing but under his feet.

The gang sat in their seats, not phased by the gunshots that continued to fire from pistols at a rate comparable to a Gatling gun. Horses neighed deafeningly and men jeered, screaming and shouting to their hearts content. But then it all came to a stop. Outside the saloon the noises halted like the horses the men rode in on, but as to who it was, no one had an idea. The silence rung in Arthur's ears like tinnitus, nothing more than a nagging sound that drove him insane and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Dutch Van Der Linde, you have a visitor" a voice shouted in the street, making Dutch stand up slowly and quietly. "One that you wouldn't want to miss. So I recommend you get out here...right now". The voice was unbearably Texan, meaning it could only be one possibility. 

Arthur's brow furrowed intensely, the weasley sound of the mans voice told him it could be no other than an O'Driscoll. They all weighed up the odds of winning this fight. The combined strength of the four gunslingers would make it an easy fight, but they could never be too careful. "What are we going to do?" asked he, radically, uneasy that the law could turn up any second and finish them off any second.

"Go out there. Give the damn bastards what they want", Dutch reached for his gun slowly, pulling the trigger back as he pulled it from his worn leather holster. He had had that gun since Arthur knew him, but it brandished sentimental value of some sort and so no matter how bad the condition of it got, Dutch would still use it.  _I wouldn't be surprised if he got a bullet to the head 'cause his gun wouldn't fire a damn round,_ he thought to himself.

"We don't even know what they want" John argued and Arthur agreed; To Arthur, he was the most rational thinker out of the gang, which wasn't a hard task considering the gang consisted of hot-headed outlaws and their significant others and a few who preferred to stay in the background. But it had always been that way, even when Arthur was young. Being irrational gets you nowhere.

Dutch thought for a second, "Well it's clear they want a fight in some way or another". He stormed towards the door, leaving his three men following behind. With his foot, he kicked open the saloon doors leaving the men just enough time to all squeeze through before it swung shut once again.

Three horses, a man on each, and a hostage thrown over the back of the centre one with their hands and legs bound. A potato sack was secured around their head and the muffled grunts told Arthur that they were gagged, also.

"We didn't come here to kill you or your men, Van Der Linde...unfortunately" spoke the centre suspect, eyeing all four of them up like prey but Arthur knew they were O'Driscoll's; meaning they couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag. The man reached around to the back of his horse, grabbing the poor fellow and throwing them to the wet mud below, caking their clothes in god knows what. They grunted loudly as their body hit the floor with no limbs free to protect themselves, an echoing thud resonated with Arthur, it sounded like it hurt. "We found this gypsy on the road here, travelling from Saint Denis, and we only planned on robbing the poor soul." Dutch's jaw clenched, they may kill men all the live long day, but discrimination was something they were all heavily against; but he said nothing. "Until we found a letter that led us right to you, Dutch Van Der Linde"

"What makes you think I care if you blow this mans brains out where he lies?" Dutch bluffed, knowing another murder wasn't something they could morally nor legally afford.The three men smirked at one another, sharing a communal cackle between themselves like Hyenas before jumping off of their horses and standing around the man who still lay in the dirt. The o'Driscoll's knew something the Van Der Linde's didn't.

"Trust us, that ain't something you want..." there was a brief silence before the man continued, "All we ask in return for this _Things_ life is a small lump of money... for our troubles". Two of the men grabbed their shoulder, dragging them up onto their shakey feet, but Arthur noticed something as they did so; the ropes that bound the being were lying behind, embedded deeply in the mud, and now all that kept them together was the own free will of the victim. Almost like clockwork, time seemed to slow down, and the mans arms extended to either side of him, grabbing the pistol from each of the O'Driscoll's holsters in unison and then raising them to their respective temple before pressing the trigger without hesitation and listening as they fell to the same position he was once in like dominoes. The final O'Driscoll had fear struck into him, and began to make an attempt to run but - with the bag still completely fastened over their head - the victim turned, aimed the gun down the street and listened for the frantic footsteps of the petrified.

"A witch! She's a bloody _witch_!" He screamed before they fired, sending the bullet into the back of his head; like magic.

 _She_? Arthur thought, but then it began to make sense. The shape of the woman's body should have told them all they needed to know. No man in the West was shaped like that. If they were, Arthur didn't want to know.The woman pulled the bag from her head, letting a full head of black curls tumble down to her waist. She had already turned to fire foreign profanities at the men who lay twitching on the ground, blood pouring from them

"stupide dégénéré. si l'un de vos hommes pose encore un doigt sur moi, je vous tuerai tous à mains nues." She dragged saliva from her throat like a large burly man and spat it onto the lifeless body of the man who dared disrespect her. If only they knew who they were dealing with.

"There ain't no way she's from around here. No woman from America looks like that" John mumbled, eyeing up the woman who now turned to face them. She was tall, almost intimidating, and had a wild look in her still pained eyes.

"And I've only ever seen hair like that once before" Dutch replied, the realisation dawning on him like a shadow. His eyes grew wide, like he had seen a ghost in the very street they stood.

Tanned skin, deep brown eyes, and sharp features, Arthur reckoned she had been carved by the gods. But something in those abyssal eyes of her told him that she was in pain. Emotional pain. And then it all made sense.As she strode towards them, her hand extended for the gang to shake and one by one, they all did. "Wynona LaDue. Long time no see, Dutch"

 

"Wynona LaDue" Dutch smiled at the lady, who looked to be in her mid-twenties. "Last time I saw you, you were ye high". He motioned to the top of his thigh.

"It has been a long time, Dutch. You looked a lot younger back then, too" she smirked, making Arthur scoff and Dutch buckle with laughter. He was a nice man when it all boiled down to it, he wouldn't hurt you unless you deserved hurtin'. And the only time Van Der Linde cared for laying a finger on another man was when it was an o'Driscoll.

He stopped all of a sudden, realising how inconsiderate he had been for the past 3 minutes. "I'm sorry about Amos. He was a good man", his voice was almost timid, like he was truly saddened by the loss of his long time best friend. 

A wince of something passed her eyes, Arthur noticed. "A good man he was not, Dutch. But a wise one" Wynona chuckled a little, hiding the pain that struck her like a club to the chest whenever she had to remember. Amos was an outlaw gone straight, and no matter how warm he became, nothing changed his actions that gained him the reputation of Amos LaDue. "He was a great father". Arthur watched as her eyes darted around the street of Rhodes, desperate for an escape from the painful conversation. One that Arthur was feeling kind enough to give her.

"What are you doing up this neck of the woods?" His question was short but the relieved look on Wynona's face painted a good enough picture. He noticed how well-versed she was, she almost sounded posh, like the French down in Saint Denis but dressed like an outlaw. Her accent was just as thick, but the French was thrown into a boiling pot of American and Yiddish.

LaDue looked up at him with a weak smile, her tired eyes showing a glimmer of warmth at the quiet man. "My father, he wrote me a letter, you see. He told me to find you, he said you could help"

"Sure we can help but... how did you know where to find us?" Asked Dutch in response, instantly wanting to take her under his wing, he felt that responsibility on his shoulders now. If Amos didn't want Dutch caring for her, he wouldn't have wrote her a letter to find him.

"Well, you are the talk of the city down in Saint Denis because of what happened in Blackwater, it was easy." Wynona smirked, running a hand through her full head of curly black hair. Her accent was almost as heavy as the locks that lay on top of her head. "I bumped into a few Indians on the way east, they told me they watched the wheel fall of a wagon not to far down the river. But after that, those o'Driscoll's found me and took the letter, knew instantly where you were"

"Let's hope the Pinkerton's don't get the same ideas. Hop on, we can take you back to camp. It's better we get out of here" Dutch unhitched his horse, climbing onto it with ease, but Wynona didn't follow. He was almost glad as the Count didn't didn't like anyone else on him other than Dutch.

"I didn't walk here" she chortled, positioning her fingers specifically in her mouth and whistling so loud that it could most likely be heard for miles. In the distance, the galloping of a horse shook the ground, gradually getting more intense with every passing second until around the corner came a majestic horse. Jet black and monstrous, the gang wasn't sure they had saw such a beast of a steed . Wynona practically leaped onto the thing. "I missed you, boy" she beamed at her mount, running her dainty fingers through its long, black mane.

"He looks mean" John's raspy voice distracted her from welcoming her friend. She had taken to John right away, he seemed like a nice feller for what it was worth. Someone she would perhaps be friends with.

She smiled, "He is." His coat was iridescent, almost ethereal. Arthur wondered where she got him from, and more importantly, how much took out of her pocket.

Arthur watched her face drop, her brain ticking like a time bomb, gears and cogs grinding to a sad halt. But she was dragged from her dismal daydream when Dutch spoke, "Nice shot, by the way". The gang was impressed, "You clearly take it from Amos. You know, one time we was sat in a saloon down near Blackwater and this guy comes up to us and challenges us to shoot a hole through a coin. Amos could never turn down a challenge, So it goes down the line, all these fellers missing and putting holes in the wall until it gets to Amos. The feller throws it up into the air and he sends a single bullet flying straight through the middle. It was the most impressive thing i ever did see. I still have the coin, I'll find it and you can have it if you want."

"That would be nice" smiled Wynona rather sheepishly for the sake of not being rude, but no matter how hard she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, it simply would not disappear. John watched as they began to ride out of Rhodes, Arthur deep in thought, his eyes locked onto the new woman. Dutch was keen on her, and he could tell why, she was impressive. But she was different. Her tanned skin and hip-long bushes of jet black hair that were contorted into tight spiral ringlets made it obvious that she wasn't from around here, and as soon as she opened her mouth, the thick French accent wasn't kind on her. Around here, they called them witches or Gypsy's. 

She fell back in the formation, now riding beside John and Arthur. Wynona seemed to be thinking about something. "You alright?" Asked John with a concerned tone in his voice, having taken a liking to Wynona's ways. Arthur remained quiet.

Her head turned to face them both before a clearly fake smile cracked its way into her cheeks. "Perfectly". Weapon upon weapon was stored on her horse, along with multiple other belongings. Apollo was strong, he could handle it.

They sped up, riding in silence for the better part of 10 minutes until they broke through the thin layer of trees and into a camp area where 16 other people slept, worked and conversed. But as soon as the gang rode in with an extra person, all heads turned to them. Most people would put their heads down in embarrassment, ashamed of all the people watching them. But not Wynona. Instead, she held her head high.

"Who's this?" Asked Charles, his interest peaking as soon as he saw the foreign tan to her skin. Perhaps he would have a member of the group to talk to about his heritage. Something that interested Wynona equally. As a Black and Indian man himself, he had faced the hardships of not being white in this country by the time he was a teenager. Wynona looked at him, his hair, and the feather that was woven into it and she smiled, glad to find a man she could somewhat relate to.

She jumped off of her horse, her shoes sticking into the grass below her. "Wynona LaDue", smiled she as she extended her arm for the man to shake. Which he swiftly did.

"Charles Smith". His voice was deep and mysterious, almost monotonous whereas Wynona's was soft and posh, which made them both stick out like sore thumbs, another thing she noticed about him. A bandage was wrapped tightly around his other hand that hung down by his side, it looked sore.

"Wynona's daddy was killed, but by who, she doesn't know. I thought we could help her" Dutch butted in, "If you could all give the girl a little space" he shooed the crowd that began to gather around the horses and led Charles away for a private chat. Wynona was out of her depth, in a camp full of strangers. With nothing else to do, she wandered over to the vacant campfire, the small amount of fire that was left drying the mud that she had been thrown into onto her clothes. Luckily these weren't her everyday ones.

A small mirror lay on a log where she sat down, cracked, but a mirror nonetheless. She picked it up, looking at the reflection that drearily stared back through tired eyes. A few grazes worked themselves up her neck, crawling towards the blood that crusted around her nostril. Strands of stray hair dangled loosely over her forehead. She looked past the mirror and towards the group of women who all stared over at her, 4 of the 5 with kind smiles plastered on their face but 1 with a scowl that could have killed a man. As soon as she saw Wynona look over she darted her eyes away, shying away from Wynona's equally intimidating gaze.

"That's just Sadie, don't mind her" A voice make her drop the mirror on the ground, the thin layer of charcoal that rimmed the campfire stopping the glass from shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces. Wynona looked around and watched as a man, early 30's perhaps, sat down on the log directly beside her. One of the men from earlier, but she wasn't sure of his name.

Wynona scoffed, "I'm not the one staring". She knew why Sadie was staring, it was the same reason everybody round these parts did; prejudice. As she craned her neck to look at him, she noticed how handsome he was. Which was a breath of fresh air. Stubble covered the bottom half of his tanned face, a sharp jawline hidden somewhere underneath. His eyebrows were thick and almost overpowering if it hadn't been for his eyes that caught her attention. Blue, a rim of emerald that rimmed the inner iris.

"You sure about that?" The man chuckled softly, his western accent strong. Wynona looked away, gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw; embarrassed.

 


	2. A kind conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One

  _Wynona LaDue is a specimen of a lady. A league of her own, I’m without doubt. Perhaps if she weren’t so sad, and I weren’t so foolish, we would have made a great pairing_

 

**Part Three**

 

Wynona and the still unknown to her man sat around the fire while the rest of the gang got on with their daily duties. There was an awkward silence between the two of them while the fire blazed, the wood that fed it keeping it well lit. They were warm here, which made a nice change from the chilly dampness of Horseshoe Overlook.

"I'm terribly sorry I didn't think I caught your name" Wynona turned to him and asked, catching him surprisingly off guard. She looked upon his face with delight, he was a handsome man, his looks punching her in the throat when she first laid eyes on him properly.

"Arthur. Arthur Morgan" His expression softened into a friendly face, but his introduction lingered in the air a little before he continued, "If I may ask, Miss, where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Wynona thought for a second, the memory of her late father still fresh like a wound in her mind. "My father was adamant on me not becoming an outlaw like he used to be, but he taught me how to defend myself. Just in case. I guess it runs in the family" she smirked a little at the memories, but repressed them anyway.

"Was your mother an outlaw too?" asked Arthur, resting his elbows on his knees so he could get more of a heat from the campfire. It lit up his face like the golden hour that beat down on the plains every single day at 5pm. It was Wynona's favourite time. It made everything look so _pretty_.

Wynona only shrugged in response, "No, she was straight". There was a moment of awkward silence that lay over the both of them like a carpet. Arthur noted thr use of the word 'was'. He felt sorry for her, nobody deserves to lose both of their parents and be all alone in this big world at such an age "And what of your parents?"

"My father was no more than a petty criminal. He was arrested when I was 11 and I never saw him again. My mother died soon after. Dutch found me and raised me like a son." His eyes gazed towards Van Der Linde who was deep in riveting conversation with Charles Smith. At times, Arthur was thankful that Dutch took him under his wing, but after all that happened in Blackwood, he was afraid none of them would make it away from the law. "Why did you become an outlaw if your father was so against you becoming one?"

"It all started as an accident really" Wynona chuckled heartily, "A man I _associated_ myself with a couple of years back was part of a gang. They all turned on him when they realised he was going with Amos LaDue's daughter and tried to kill him. He slaughtered them all and then ran in the middle of the night, leaving me to take the blame"

"So you had no choice?" Reiterated Arthur, his voice sympathetic, but Wynona didn't seem to care too much. She nodded, her curls bouncing up and down with every motion. The outlaws sat beside the campfire in silence for a minute or two, the chattering of others and the crackling of the flames being the only thing to fill the silence. "If you don't mind me asking..." Arthur began.

"...But where am I from?" She looked to the embarrassed cowboy who only smiled sheepishly, an indicator that she was right. "It's not a sin to ask me where I'm from...and I presume you mean 'what are you?'. Well, I was born in France to a Jewish mother and a Romani father. Hence why I don't look like any of you. We came here when I was only a young child which is when my father met Dutch" She explained in full, standing up and watching as flakes of dirt fell from her clothes.

"Why did you come to France?" Asked Arthur, desperate to find out more of the mysterious woman, but she only smirked, looking down at him as he stayed seated on the log.

"All in good time, Arthur Morgan"

She approached her horse, and Arthur kept watch as the black stallion nudged her with his strong head. He smiled, but stayed jealous that he had never had such a strong connection with any steed that he had ridden. Wynona smiled widely, so widely that Arthur hadn't noticed Charles sit down beside him.

"She doesn't seem like someone who just lost her father 2 weeks ago" His gruff voice drew Arthur from his intense stare. Arthur stayed silent, only nodding his head. "Sadie doesn't seem too thrilled about having a new person here"

"Sadie only cares because she's different" Arthur noted, looking over at Sadie who glared at Wynona with hatred behind her back. "Although from what we saw today, I doubt she wants to push her" he hushed her voice, like he was telling Charles a secret. 

"What did you see today?" Asked Charles, his voice equal in volume.

"She killed three men with a sack over her damn head and her ankles tied...I ain't ever seen anything like it" he gushed, chuckling the words from his mouth. Charles seemed equally impressed.

"Maybe she's someone we want to keep by. With all the Pinkertons on our tail after all" Smith explained, looking over at Wynona who fed Apollo, her horse. "We never know when a good shot like her might be needed"

Arthur fiddled with his fingers, "Maybe you're right"

"Arthur? John!" Dutch shouted the two men over from their separate conversations. Arthur waved Charles a small goodbye, but he understood. They congregated near the centre of the camp where the resources where held. "I want you two to help Wynona set up a place for her to sleep. Make her feel at home. Also, Arthur, we are short on food."

"Why are you tellin' me?" Arthur scoffed.

"Because when you're next out on your daily gallivant, you can bring home some meat." He gave Arthur no other choice, making Morgan sigh in defeat. "Now, go. She has to sleep somewhere". Dutch walked away, leaving John and Arthur standing awkwardly like two teenage boys.

"Hey! Wynona!" John called over to her, making her turn around and jog over, a spring to her unfortunate step. Her hair bounced it's way over to them. "Have you got any of your stuff with you?". Arthur commended John's naturally warm and welcoming nature, it just took getting to know him to find it. He hadn't met such a kind killer. 

She thought for a second, "yeah, some of it. The rest of it's up at my..." Wynona paused, swallowing harshly, "the house". There were memories attached to Wynona's home that she didn't care to relate to, it all hurt too much.

"Well, you should set up camp with us for a while. Arthur and me, we can help you" John extended a comforting hand to her shoulder.

"I wouldn't want to be a burden", as she looked down towards the ground, her eyes met with Arthur's for only a fraction of a second. She hated to admit it, but it sent her heart racing a little. God, she loathed attractive people, they were so inconvenient.

Arthur smirked ever so slightly at her coyness, but she played them like a fiddle. "Not at all. Just pay your due and you will be welcome here. John'll help you get your stuff from your horse"

John nodded, letting Wynona lead the way to her steed, one that Marston was weary around. He looked like he could pack a punch if you got on the wrong end of him and knowing Marston he would probably be on the other end. 

"So your dad, he was Amos LaDue?" Asked John, unable to bite his tongue on the touchy matter much longer.

Wynona cleared her throat, "Yes. He was". She heaved as she lifted the cloth bag that held her current belongings. John offered to help, holding out his denim coated arms out to take the heavy sack but Wynona refused, slacking it all over her right shoulder and hitching Apollo before walking the short distance to where Arthur stood, looking around the camp with calculating eyes.

"John! I told you to help the poor girl!" Exclaimed Arthur, tutting loudly at his friends unfortunate mistake.

"Really it's okay, I've got it. Where should I put my stuff down?"

Arthur pointed over to the only free space in the camp. "That there's the only free space". It was of average size, squeezed in between Dutch's large white tent and Arthur's smaller, humbler cot. But he had all of his belongings set up strategically. His shaving station sat in the direction that the sun rose, which Wynona thought was smart. He was more than a pretty face after all.

John scoffed, throwing a hand over his stomach. Both Arthur and Wynona looked towards him with confusion written clearly in their faces."Good luck getting to sleep beside Arthur. All he ever does is snore" John cackled, poking fun at his unimpressed friend. Wynona tried to hold back a snigger, but the thought made her chuckle weakly.

"Shurrup, you sap" he punched Marston gently in the shoulder before turning to Wynona and removing the sack from her shoulder with ease, much to her protest, and walking it over to the patch of grass that she would call her humble abode for the time being. His chivalry made her heart flutter like a butterfly she wished she could crush in the palm of her hand.  _Not now_ , she cursed herself internally. 

 

_**Part Four**_

 

 

 

Arthur hammered the final post of the bed cover deep into the soft mud before throwing a large sheet of thin tweed to protect from the elements. The chest at the bottom of her bed housed her clothing, and the barrels that sat beside her bed acted as a cabinet, but she was yet to place anything on it, too scared to delve into memories in the company of two cowboys. The top two buttons of his shirt where undone, revealing a small patch of tanned skin and some stray chest hair. Wynona peeled her eyes away from him at just the right moment, not daring be caught again. She would rather the ground open up and swallow her.

"There we go" Arthur sighed, wiping his brow with the back of his bare forearm, having rolled the sleeves of his light blue shirt up to stave away the warmth which clearly wasn't working well considering the redness of his face. His hair had slipped from the pomade that held his choppy brown locks into place, making small strands fall over his forehead.

"A job well done, I reckon" John remarked, making Arthur turn to him with disgust written on his face. "What?"

"You didn't do nothin'" he spoke with vexation, but John only shrugged, "go make yourself useful and get us some stew, will you?" He ordered the outlaw, and John didn't object. Instead it left the two outlaws alone, both too afraid to talk.

"Oh, no, I'm quite alright" Wynona insisted, waving Arthur's offer from the fog in front of her with the back of her hand. "It's been a rather eventful day I think I would rather get some sleep", her soft smile humbled Arthur, but he was taking none of it.

"Come on, now, you have to eat something" He insisted, looking down at Wynona who sat on the floor with her legs folded under her. Her eyes squinted as she glanced up at him, the setting sun sitting behind him. With a small nod, Arthur smiled, "good"

John juggled three bowls within his two hands, trying desperately not to drop them and disappoint everybody. Arthur popped another shirt button, making Wynona burn red with embarrassment. She punched herself for being such a sap. 

"Thanks" he nodded towards John who handed him a bowl, before handing Wynona one too. She grinned kindly, but glanced towards the bowl with a sad look in her eye. It turned to uneatable goop that she couldn't bring herself to ingest. Her heart wrenched into different contortions, the chest that sunk on to her desperate lungs felt heavy, unliftable. The stew that stared back at her seemed unconsumable, the lump in her throat made her unable to eat. But she was so starving. Since the murder, she had been experiencing moments of pure, nagging agony that left her unable to talk, unable to function. She would give anything to let all of the bottled emotions out.

"You alright?" John asked, the tone of his voice indicating that he was concerned. She was dragged from her thoughts by his weathered comment. A small nod was all she could muster along with a teary eyed smile. "We'll leave you be" he dragged Arthur from his seat by his large upper-arm. They left, much to the relief of Wynona, who let out a deep sigh. She stood from the ground, unpacking what was left in her carry-on. A small, wooden, engraved box full of jewellery she had collected over the years; none of which she wore from fear she would lose another part of the only things she had left. Next was a photograph, a portrait of Wynona and Amos. Wynona was only a teenager. After she removed the portrait from the frame, she read the note scribbled on the back of the glossy paper. One that brought her comfort even in the darkest of times.

_My dear Wynona. All I have left. My world would be incomplete if not for her. No matter where I am, or where I go, I remember her, and suddenly things are okay again. She is all I live for._

Wynona's arm hair stood on end, the goosebumps followed soon thereafter. A grunt escaped her mouth as the man-shaped hole that was left in her heart presented itself once again. She hung her head in pain, letting her long hair fall over her face while she brought the picture to her chest, holding it so close to her that she thought she would never leave this position. She didn't want to. The emotions began to bubble like the pre-eruption of a volcano. One day, the straw was going to break the camel's back, and it wasn't going to be pretty.From across the camp, John and Arthur watched her grieve silently before carefully placing the photo-frame onto the barrel beside her bed and sitting down. She pulled her shirt off over her hair, throwing it into the chest at the bottom of her bed and she was left in her white vest, the only garment unaffected by the dirt she had been flung into earlier. They glanced at the bare part of her back, studying the scar that sat vertically down the length of her spine that pressed against her skin like it was trying to break free.

"That looks nasty" John murmured to Arthur who took a sip of his whisky. He hummed in response. Arthur wondered where she got it from. He hadn't seen a scar quite like that before, it was almost _impressive_.

"Her family had all sorts of enemies, you can only imagine what she'll be goin' through now she's alone" Arthur explained, shifting his weight to the other foot while he leaned against the tent pole. "We should keep her out of trouble". His words began to slur together, having had a bit too much whisky for one night, but John noticed, stealing the bottle for his own good.

"I feel for her. She's only young" Marston sighed, his solemn eyes fixed upon the woman.

Arthur cocked his head to look at him, "And what age d'ya think she is?" John narrowed his eyes towards the stretching woman across the camp.

"20, maybe" answered John skeptically, making Arthur scoff. Perhaps Wynona looked young, her skin was virtually flawless, but 20 was pushing it a little.

"Older, I reckon. 'though you don't know the age of your own damn son so I'm not exactly surprised" he chuckled lightly, "25 I reckon"

John hissed, "Shurrup. Why do you want to know her age anyway? Got the hots for her already? Didn't take you as the desperate type. You could pass as her dad" Marston cackled at his own joke, his laugh wheezy and throat-fuelled, which quickly made Arthur stop listening. 

Arthur sighed exasperatedly, suddenly uninterested in the conversation. "You tire me out". He wandered off to his own bed for the night, his head pounding from the whiskey that he had overdone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can maybe tell, I've done some major editing work to the story. I don't want to rush things at all. Meaning, some chapters might just be fillers or may be a bit drawn out however it's promising so far. I really hope you guys enjoy this story. I will try to update at least one long chapter every couple of days but until i'm into a schedule, it might be sporadic. I'm staring uni, and a new job (hooray!), but i will update in any spare time i have


	3. A hunting trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15

_**Part 5** _

 

_15 days since Wynona got here, and she's fitting in well. Dutch doesn't think the O'Driscoll's killed Amos, but he isn't exactly known for his detective skills. She's trying to focus on other things, like hunting and providing for the gang, but there's still pain behind those eyes. Dutch looks at her like the saving grace of this gang, like some sort of angel sent from above, and that pressure isn't fair on the lass. John and me have became quite good friends with her. She has a good sense of humour. The past 2 weeks feel like a dream, not being chased by the law or freezing half-to-death on the side of a mountain. We are doing well here. I like it._

 

Arthur pulled his tan coat on, something he never left camp without, and began to make his way to his steed, a rifle fastened in his right hand. He was feeling rather bored, perhaps a hunting trip would do him some good. It was warm out today, almost too warm for everybody to function. Yet, Arthur got on with it. That is, until, Wynona approached him.

"You didn't strike me as the type of man who hunted using a rifle" She joked, poking fun at his odd habits. But he hadn't quite gotten the hang of using a bow and arrow. Arthur climbed onto his horse, gazing down at Wynona who stood at height with her feet. Her eyes squinted in the bright sun, her hand being feeble as a guard from it's blinding rays.

Arthur looked around awkwardly, "Well, I ain't ever really got the hang of it"

"Never too late to learn, old dog" She smiled widely. Her teeth were unique, her canines unnaturally sharp, almost animal-like. "Why don't I join you? Ensure there's no bullets in tonight's stew" Wynona offered her help, and it didn't take Arthur long to come to his answer. He enjoyed her company.

"Why not? Didn't seem like i had much of a choice anyway" a little smirk rose to his face when he saw Wynona's offended expression. "That would be nice" he reiterated, not wanting to hurt her feelings. She explained that she had just got to grab a few things and she would be right over so Arthur waited on Zeus while Dutch nodded at him from across the camp. He was welcoming of her, something he was glad about. A few minutes passed with Morgan listening to the birds chirp and the distant chattering of the camp-folk before Wynona appeared with a bow strung across her chest and a quill full of arrows thrown over her back. "I thought we could get some fishing done down at the river too"

"Yessir. Lead the way. I am merely the assistant". They rode out of the trees and down the makeshift track, trying their hardest not to go head-first into any trees or rocks, but being in the middle of a wooded area made it challenging at the best of times. They went in single file for a minute or two, the track not quite large enough for two big horses. Comfortably at least. The broke through the trees and Wynona moved to his horse-side, slowing down to a slow trot. "It's a lovely day out" she noted.

"This is your idea of lovely? I'm almost melting here" Arthur wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead coincidentally, perhaps he truly was melting like some sort of wax figurine.

Wynona tittered, "you complain like a little girl, Arthur Morgan, I'm not sure I've heard anything quite like it. You're almost as bad as Uncle"

"I could handle that until you compared me to uncle." He feigned offence, "I wouldn't go around saying stuff like that, you know, unless you have a death wish"

"I shall take my chances for the time being" she retorted, cocking an eyebrow at the cowboy, who she considered to be a friend at this point. She trusted him. "What is life if not an opportunity to poke fun at my friends?" Wynona asked rhetorically, making Arthur turn to meet her cocky gaze.

"Oh, is that what we are now? Friends?" He sneered, "I didn't seem to have much say in the matter". They shared a snigger together, which was nice, it had been a long time since Arthur properly laughed. Before Wynona, there was simply nothing to laugh about. She brought a light to the gang that no one else could, not even Dutch. She would always try to ensure everybody was okay, at least. Sometimes her and Jack would play tag around camp, even Arthur admitted it was an adorable sight to see. Abigail would grin widely at the sight, somebody was giving him the attention the boy desperately needed.

Wynona hummed sarcastically, "You should feel privileged"

"Oh, you have no idea how privileged i feel" He crowed like a little girl, which was a sound to sore ears and Wynona simpered in response. The morning sun was clear in the sky, devoid of any clouds to surround it. It was a warm beam that caused Arthur to sweat so much, she only prayed he didn't get sun sick. There was something playing on his mind, but Wynona didn't dare ask what the matter was. Instead, she tried to distract him.

"Where were you before Horseshoe Overlook?" Asked she, giving him a few moments to think before turning her head to look at him.

He cleared his throat, "We used to be near Blackwater but a job went wrong. We ran, of course, but got stuck in the grizzlies. I don't know how we all survived. It was a rough time for all of us" His head fell under his gamblers hat that shielded his face from the hot sun, "There were a few that didn't make it"

"I'm sorry for your loss..." Wynona tutted at herself, "God, I'm sorry. I hate when people say that shit to me. What I meant to say was that i feel for you"

Arthur only nodded, still feeling monumental guilt that he could have done more to save those they lost. But as a deer ran across their tracks, Wynona stopped her horse instantly. "Do you want me to show you how it's done?" She asked intently and he nodded in response. Apollo picked up his speed and LaDue readied her bow, pulling the string back towards her cheek so that her gloved fingers grazed her skin. The arrow moved as the deer did, but as Wynona stood in the stirrups of her steed, she was given the perfect opportunity to kill it. Her lungs emptied and she let go, listening to the arrow whistle past her face. It spun in the air, travelling to where the deer was due to be in a millisecond. Arthur didn't quite believe when the arrow impacted itself through the eye of the animal, he had to shake his head to ensure it wasn't a dream. 

"Wow" he whispered as the deer fell to the ground, defeated. Wynona sighed in relief, a small, embarrassed grin cracking it's way into her cheeks. "I guess it's my turn now"

Wynona snickered, "We can go down to the river, there'll be a few drinking" she claimed, riding up to the hunt and climbing off of her horse. As she picked it up, she realised how heavy it truly was which was a bittersweet revelation at it's finest.

"Here," Arthur took the deer from her hands, lifting it with such ease it left Wynona with a small butterfly in her stomach. "Let me help", he threw it onto the back of her horse and tied it there. She smiled at him kindly as a gesture of thanks and climbed back onto her horse, Arthur doing the same thing. They rode down to the river, through the large plains near valentine. Arthur watched as the wind caught in Wynona's hair, blowing it back like the mane of her horse. A smile was etched into her skin. She felt free here, without a care in the world, like nothing could touch her. It was a beautiful sight to see. "Do you know around these parts?" He asked her as they began to slow down.

"Like the back of my hand.This is where my father and I would practice in the summer" She explained, pulling on the reins and slowing her horse down to only a small trot as they reached the stony bay of the river, "Don't you?"

Arthur shook his head, "Nope. I would go out exploring a bit when we first got here but it's all new to me"

"It's nice discovering things for the first time. If you ever want to go out, just holler, I can be your tour guide" Wynona continued, tying her horse onto the hitching post that sat beside a large, tan rock before the pebbled bay. She leaped off, her boots landing harshly on the dry mud. The same mud that would have been engulfing her foot in one swallow 2 weeks ago, when the rain came. "Sh" She placed a finger to her mouth once Arthur was down off his horse. In the distance stood a dear, its head down in the river. It was of average size, but big enough to feed them all for a few days at least. "Down there, a deer" She pointed to it, but Arthur seemed shell shocked when Wynona thrust the bow in his direction. 

"I don't know what the hell I'm doin'!" He exclaimed in a hushed tone, but he took the bow nonetheless. He noticed the carvings up the bone of the bow, intricate flower designs woven into the pale wood of the weapon. She handed him one arrow, watching as he painfully attempted to line it up with the string. Wynona moved around to the back of him, grasping his arm softly and tugging it back into a stronger position. She moved it up a little higher, making his jacket tighten around his back. Wynona tried not to notice the fierce back muscles that made themselves evident, but there was no distracting from them. She clear her throat sheepishly, her face burning once more. Arthur held the bow too low, by his throat as opposed to by his cheek. She moved his hand up in-front of his nose, perfectly in line with the tip of his nostrils, and positioned his pulling hand by his cheek. The backs of her fingers grazed against his stubbly cheekbone, making them both flinch a little. 

"Sorry" She whispered, her stomach lurching like sea sickness. Arthur felt her breath on the back of his neck, the goosebumps spreading up his arms like a forest fire fuelled by embarrassment.  "Pull you're right hand back" she ordered and he obeyed, but let his arm drop too low. She pushed it back up and Arthur screwed his eyes shut, demoralised by his lack of skills. "Keep both your hands level..."She trailed off, letting Arthur fully draw back the string until his forearm began to quiver under the weight. "Empty your lungs...", she listened to him take a deep breath outwards, "...and shoot"

The arrow whistled by his ear, flying through the air at the speed of light. They almost missed it as the arrow spun it's way into the neck of the dear, a loud, final wail escaping it's throat before it fell to the ground. Arthur grinned heartily, proud of his new-earned skill. Wynona patted him on the back, "Well done. Perhaps an old dog _can_ learn new tricks"

"hey! I'm not old!" He shouted after her as she walked towards the deer, lifting it over her shoulder and sinking into the weight of the animal. Her feet were steady on the pebbles, afraid of falling and dumping it right into the river only for it to float downstream, never to be seen again. As she reached Arthur's horse, she noticed him extending a fishing rod. "Do you 'wanna shot?" he asked, watching as she tied the deer onto his horse. Wynona shook her head softly, but Arthur looked on at her with suspicion. "Have you ever learned?" 

Wynona feigned offence at such a silly question, "Of course, who do you take me as?"

"I take you as someone who ain't ever learned to fish". There was a few moments awkward silence where she rolled her eyes deep into the back of her head, Arthur was right, she just didn't want to admit it. "I knew it. Come here" he beckoned for her to take the rod, and she did so with hesitancy. He drove her by the shoulders to the side of the water so her shoes were only centimetres away from getting wet. "Ain't ever learned to fish...unbelievable" He joked under his breath, making Wynona send an elbow into his ribs from her close vicinity. As he jerked away from her in faux pain, a hearty laugh came from his chest. Wynona tried her hardest to pretend to be mad, but he made it so hard.

"Any more of it and you will be in with the fish. You hear?" She turned her neck to face him and a sly smile was still slapped onto his tanning face like a little boy.

He snorted loudly, "Loud and clear, miss", there was a brief silence as Arthur held the hook and pierced river lure onto it, weighing it down ever so slightly. "Now, this is a deep river, might catch something big" he stood behind Wynona and held her arms,"You want to cast back, but not too far or you'll catch yourself" He spoke down her neck, not knowing his eyes were fixed on the monumental scar at the base of her neck. There had been a minutes silence while he examined it.

"Then what?" Wynona asked, clearing her throat and clearing Arthur's thoughts from his mind. He pulled her forearms towards her chest before using them to cast the line out into the middle of the river. His hands wrapped around the entirety of each arm, dwarfing Wynona with his own body. He let go, much to her dismay, and watched as she stood at the river back.

"Wait until there's a bite" he explained in response, travelling over to rocks further away from the river. He sat down and took his journal from his satchel whilst still keeping an eye on Wynona from his peripheral vision. The pencil danced over the yellow-ish page, unsure of what to draw until he realised, his muse was standing right before him. He had fun drawing her massive tufts of jet black, coiled hair that fell down to waist. In weather like this, he wasn't sure how she was surviving. He sketched her profile as she looked up at the mountains in the distance. Her jaw and chin were puncturing, the bridge of her nose extending straight down in an angular motion. Thick eyebrows framed large, brown eyes that simmered like a honeypot in the warm sun. She was interesting character for sure, perhaps Arthur would draw her again sometime. It was better than drawing the vast plains of nothingness. 

"Arthur?" Wynona's concerned tone caught his attention from the river, the dauntingly deep one that Arthur had no intention of falling into. He looked up and saw the rod that sat in her hands bending offensively, Wynona struggling to reel it in, her feet digging into the rocks to stop her from flying into the river, but as Arthur went to take the rod from her struggling arms, the fish swam towards the other edge of the river, jerking him forward and making Arthur's body impact Wynona's.

Time seemed to slow as he watched his big, stupid mistake unfold before his sorry eyes. As his chest connected with the side of her face, the rocks she stood on shifted violently underneath her. There was no stopping the collision, and there simply was no catching Wynona as she was sent tumbling into the deep river. The water engulfed her wholly, but the current wasn't strong enough to carry her any further. Arthur's eyes grew wide as he realised what he had done. The sun might have been warm, but the river would have been the opposite. A few seconds passed before the sopping wet figure of Wynona emerged resembling a drowned rat. If looks could kill, Arthur Morgan would have been six feet under. Every piece of clothing she wore was stuck to her in an unflattering fashion. The silence in the air that followed said all that needed to be saying. As she pulled her heavy, water-logged boots from the river, Arthur began to apologise profusely. 

"Miss LaDue, I am _so_ sorry" He approached her swiftly, but Wynona's shaking lips and body left her unable to retort meanly. She tried to wave him away with the back of her hand, her heavy heaves telling him it was worse than he first thought. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"F-fine..." she gasped, "Just...cold". Arthur's chivalry presented himself, removing his coat like lightening and wrapping it around her shoulders. He couldn't help but snicker at the sight, her small body like a child's in his jacket. She nodded at him, shutting her eyes and revelling in the warmth. But her clothes were still soaking wet, Arthur knew she would get ill if she didn't get warmed up and dried off soon. "S-shit" Wynona cursed, holding her hand straight out in front of her and watching it tremor. Her arms rubbed desperately at each opposing upper-arm, trying to heat them up at least a little bit. 

"Let's get you back to camp" he grabbed her forearm, leading her to her horse before soon realising she wouldn't be able to ride home. Her muscles began to spasm, her lips turned a pale shade of blue. "Sorry, Miss, but we are going to have to share a horse" he explained to her, grabbing her waist and lifting her up onto Zeus with ease. There wasn't an easy way to go about this. "Are you okay there?" He asked, referring to her placement further up the saddle. Wynona nodded, taking deep and unrelenting gasps for air. He climbed onto the horse, the heat of his chest warming up her back, but it wouldn't be enough. He reached around her body and grabbed the reigns, letting her fall back into him slightly. "You'll be alright, it's what's called Cold Water Response" he spoke into her ear as he began to ride, ensuring she wouldn't fall from his horse as her own followed close beside. Thankfully, the ride back to camp was a rather short one, but he was dreading getting it in the neck from Dutch.

They arrived at camp, breaking through the trees and into the clearing were the gang resided. Instantly, Dutch saw Wynona shaking and soaked, marching over immediately. "Arthur Morgan, what are you playin' at?" He scorned him, motioning for Arthur to get her off of the horse. He obeyed, jumping from his steed before grabbing her waist once more, Wynona placing her hands on his broad shoulders to steady herself.

"It was an honest mistake, Dutch" He waved his hands in front of himself in defence. "Miss Grimshaw, Miss O'Shea! Get some blankets" He shouted over to the two woman who scurried about, trying to find anything that would warm her trembling body up.

"You'd better keep an eye on her or you'll never hear the end of it, hm?" Dutch waved an accusing finger in Arthur's face before marching off. Morgan nodded, taking Wynona's arm and leading her to her cot and sitting her down, keeping his jacket wrapped around her. It suited her. Wynona leaned against her wagon, a new addition that Dutch insisted they give her to ensure her comfort, her bottom jaw quivering and hitting her teeth together. Miss Grimshaw rushed over and took one look at Wynona and her face fell. 

"Arthur, the poor girl's went into shock!" She cursed at him, "Here, dear, get this down you", Susan handed her a cup of coffee, anything to warm her insides. Arthur watched as her hands just about shook the coffee from the cup.

"It was just a bit of water!" He defended himself, unable to stop the guilt that creeped up that back of his neck like a fever that Wynona was soon to have.  She took small sips of the warm drink as Miss Grimshaw wrapped a blanket around her shoulders on top of his jacket. 

"You go for a swim in the river and see how tip-top you feel. She's soaked from head to bloody toe!" She began to raise her voice at the outlaw, "Let's get you to the campfire. Come on, Arthur, you can make sure she doesn't damn keel over"

 

_**Part 6** _

Wynona sat at one of the three campfires that were scattered around the camp, Arthur keeping a close eye on her from the side. He carved a stick into a stake with his knife out of boredom. She seemed to be okay, but he could never know, her gaze was fixed on the ground with her hair falling around her face. She clutched her stomach and hunched her shoulders in an attempt to keep warm, but her head ached from the fluctuation in temperature. She hadn't said a work since she got back to camp because her chest felt heavy and sore, the gasping breaths she had to take to stay warm to blame. Her head was clouded with unpleasant thoughts that she didn't care to share, not even with herself.

"How are you feeling?" Charles sat on the box beside her, a guitar in one hand, a bottle of whiskey fixed tightly in the other. His voice finally drew Wynona's head from the ground, her eyes dull and her lips still pale.

"Cold..." Her voice was coarse like sandpaper, forcing Arthur deeper down into pit of guilt he was currently trapped in, "...but better. It's mainly my pride that's bruised" A small smile raised to her lips, throwing the rope down into Arthur's pit to help him out.

Charles chuckled, "I think Arthur feels the same, the way he's sulking"

Mr. Morgan looked over at the two of them, "I just feel guilty for throwin' Miss LaDue here into the river" He said whilst looking down at the stake he held in his hand, sharpened to such a point he was afraid to even touch it, but threw it in the fire regardless, burning his short-lived project to nothing more than a pile of chalky, black ash. "Again, Miss, I'm sorry"

Wynona smiled at him, "Please, Wynona is just fine...But it's okay". Arthur nodded to her, a gesture of thanks before they both turned to Charles who helplessly plucked at out of tune strings on his guitar. "Do you play?"

"Not very well" Charles made the two laugh, "There's something wrong with it. It doesn't sound quite right"

"It's out of tune, Mr. Smith. Here..." She took the guitar from his hands, "My mother taught me to play at a young age, amongst a few other instruments" She turned the knobs on the top of neck of the guitar, sticking her tongue out from the side of her mouth in concentration. She would hum a note, and then accord the guitar accordingly, Arthur thought it was rather impressive. The only other person he knew who could play the guitar was Javier.

"Does your mother still live in Saint Denis?" Asked Charles, unaware of the unfortunate end her mother had met when she was merely a teenager, but Wynona was too concentrated to mind, Arthur on the other hand turned his face in embarrassment.

"No, she's dead" She stated bluntly before humming another sweet note. Charles was speechless, unaware of the hornets nest he prodded with his words.

Charles began to stutter, "I-I'm sorry...I had no idea"

Wynona smiled, a new side of her presenting itself, "It's fine. All she cared about was carting me off to Oxford...That should be it" She smiled at him while handing him his guitar back, "Try it out"

Charles took a deep breath and plucked at the strings, the satisfying sound that came after was much better than the gritty tone they were subjected to only minutes earlier. Arthur began to speak, "You seem too clever to be hanging around with us lot. Perhaps Lenny would be more your cup of tea" He pointed over to the younger man who sat in a lantern-lit tent, his nose deep in a book. "Smart young feller, not bad with a gun neither". Lenny was just glad to be in a gang that judged his abilities rather than his appearance, something Wynona could relate to. His kind eyes moved from side to side as he read the book, but Wynona couldn't see the title from where she was sitting. The dark night sky was nothing but a strain on her eyes. She removed the blankets from her shoulders, beginning to grow too warm beside the campfire.

"Thanks for the jacket" She smiled at Arthur, standing from the log she had been sitting on for the past few hours and chucking him his coat. Wynona enjoyed wearing it, it smelled strongly of him, but she wasn't sure exactly what it was. "I'm going to hit the hay."

"A few of us are riding into town tomorrow, you should join us" Charles offered, nodding at Arthur who agreed from the sidelines.

"Yes, Perhaps i might. See you tomorrow, Mr. Smith. Goodnight Arthur" LaDue waited for Arthur to turn and look her before tipping her head at him, cocking a corner of her mouth up.

"Sleep well, Wynona"


	4. A bar fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16

_I’ve never seen such an impressive fighter. But I’m concerned for her. I’m afraid she is going to do something she might regret._

 

 

_**Part 7** _

Wynona peeled her groggy eyes open to the chirping birds in the trees behind her. All of the gang were already up, dressed and at work around the camp. As she sat up, she placed a hand to her skull, unable to comprehend anything this soon after waking up. "Good morning, Wynona, or should I say Afternoon?" Dutch spoke from his tent, only feet away from Wynona's cot.

"Sorry-" she shook her head, screwing her eyes shut tightly to try and alleviate the pain in her head, "It's not like me to wake up so late". She checked her pocket watch that sat beside her bed. 12:32pm. _How the hell did i sleep in so late?!_ She thought to herself. "Has Charles already left for town?"

Dutch nodded, "Only a half hour ago. Luckily for you, Mr. Morgan, being the gentleman that he is, offered to wait on you". Her gaze wandered towards Arthur who sat on the edge of his own cot, pulling his shoe on and placing his worn hat on top of his head. "Best be going now, you don't want to miss out on anything" Dutch urged and Wynona agreed, still dressed in yesterday's clothes. She doesn't even remember getting back to her bed.  _Strange._

Seeing as her hair had became tangled, and she wouldn't have time to comb it, Wynona grabbed a piece of fabric from her chest and tied it around the crown of her head, pulling some hair away from her face. A deep sigh left her mouth, unable to shake the headache she had acquired from last night.

 

Arthur and Wynona began the short ride into town, thankfully it was only a stones throw away from where they were residing. Tension was running high after yesterdays eventful evening, but neither of them could forget what came before. The level of intimacy between the two of them made Wynona's own stomach drop through the floor.  _Have I made a mistake?_ She asked herself,  _is it awkward now._ Arthur admired both her strength and her skill, but Morgan had been hurt in the past, and he wasn't going to let just anyone break down the solid, fortified walls he had built for himself over the past years. Perhaps if Wynona dismantled them brick-by-brick, he would never notice. 

"It has just occurred to me that I don't know an awful lot about you, Wynona" Arthur spoke carefully, not wanting any alarm bells to sound. 

Wynona turned to face him, "You aren't missing out on an awful lot, Morgan."

Arthur groaned loudly, "Something's gotta give. We are _friends_ after all". Wynona thought for a second.  _What's the worst that could happen? It's not as if i have anything left to lose._ And so Wynona decided to lower the bridge over the moat of detachment, letting someone see a glimmer of who she was on the inside. 

"Ask me as many questions as you wish until we reach Valentine" She offered, seeing the town in the far off distance. Arthur took a minute to decide what questions he should ask, thankfully wasting a little time while he was at it.  _What do i want to know about her?_ He asked himself, before thinking of the perfect question.

"how old are you?"

Wynona burst into laughter momentarily, shocked by Arthur's blunt question. "Did nobody ever tell you how rude it is to ask a woman her age?". Arthur looked to the ground in both disappointment and embarrassment. "I'm 25". He internally praised himself for guessing her age so well John would never hear the end of it. Now Arthur had to think of a second question.

"What were your first impressions of me?" Asked he, giving Wynona a minute or two to feign reflecting, not realising it was all part of the plan. The sign for Valentine passed them and she looked up at him with a sad expression.

"That's us in Valentine now. Sincere apologies"

"That is _not_ fair!" Arthur exclaimed, kicking himself for not asking the question sooner. The curiosity now etching into him like a carving. Quite frankly, Wynona was too embarrassed to tell Arthur her true first impression of him, and lying wasn't her strong suite. "I'll find out one way or another"

"I'll bet on it" She smirked, riding in front of him towards the saloon where Charles was bound to be. The sound of an upbeat piano medley leaking into the street that had been hid with the overnight rain, the mud wed and slippery that sunk under Apollo's hooves. Arthur tutted loudly, annoyance in his voice as he hitched his horse up beside Wynona's before climbing the steps to the saloon. The doors swung open, but not many paid heed, not even Charles or Javier, who were too busy chatting up some women at the bar. The only people who did were three men from across the saloon, sly looks on their faces as Wynona walked into the building. "I'm just going to grab a drink". Arthur went to Charles and Javier whilst she ordered. "A whiskey please, bub"

"Oh, Oh Arthur come over here I want you to meet our friends." Javier beckoned him over, the group of four all turning to him, the lady with red hair sticking her chest out like she had a stick up her derriere. 

Arthur nodded at them, "Pleased to meet you", he shifted on his feet, uninterested in the conversation at hand. As Arthur was preoccupied, Wynona stood at the bar to drink her whiskey when the three men strutted their way across the bar, splitting unevenly and standing on either side of her. 

"Well ain't you just the tough as teak mountain man" The red-head squeaked seductively, an odd look on her freckled face. Wynona's eyes darted up to them, a slight pang in her stomach from the remark that had just been made. But the men closing in around her gave her something else to focus on. 

The ladies friend, the presumably quieter of the two, finally piped up. "Oh, you be quiet Anastasia, anyone can tell this one's a _pussy cat_ " she commented, making Arthur raise his eyebrows. Wynona would have snickered at such a comment if it had not been the men virtually leaning over her at this point. She felt their beer-odoured breath down her neck, sending disgusted shivers up her spine. 

"Exactly, Yes he's a pussy...cat." Javier remarked, poking fun at his friend who stood with both hands fixed on his belt buckle, "Ain't that so, Arthur?". None of the gang paid no heed to Wynona, completely ignoring her concerned glances of help. Perhaps there would only be one way to solve this issue.

Arthur shifted from foot to foot, "Whatever you say...How much you cost anyway?". The tallest of the men ordered a beer, not to Wynona's surprise, and put his hand down on hers, watching as she yanked it away with resentment. He leaned in to her, unable to take the hint she was so clearly portraying.

" _Why don't we go back to my room_?" He whispered, the foul-stench emanating from his mouth being enough to put her off food forever.

" _Leave. Me. Alone_ " Wynona hissed through gritted teeth, the man on the verge of pushing her over the edge and doing something she might regret. He began to move behind her, making Wynona stand further in at the bar.

"Well ain't that a nice way to talk to a lady?" The red-head retorted, her hand propped confidently on her hip. Wynona's jaw gritted, the atmosphere all getting overwhelming. 4 people having a heated conversation, 1 man purring into her ear, 7 other men scattered around the saloon all up-in-arms about the rigorous poker game that commenced across the room and the slightly-tipsy piano medley from the man in the corner.  

Arthur scoffed, "Oh, well i didn't know i was talking to a _LADY_ ", he leaned in towards them, watching her uppity face drop immediately. They excused themselves, much to Javier and Charles' dismay. 

"Well, i must say, you got a fine way with the woman, amigo" Javier said, getting back to the whisky that had been waiting for him at the bar.

"Yeah, a regular dandy and a charmer" Arthur replied. Across the room, the man heckling Wynona put a hand on her waist, Charles being the only one to notice. He nudged the other two, alerting them to what was happening.

Wynona kept a hushed tone, "You might want to get your hands off of me or i'll have the walls painted with your shit-brains"

The three man cheered, sharing a laugh between them whilst underestimating Wynona. "She's a feisty one!" They closed in on her, the man's hand travelling further down her body. Wynona's body tensed up and her frustration became overpowering, it wouldn't take much to snap her. The trio could all see it.

"I recommend you leave the woman alone" Arthur spoke from his cup at the corner of the bar, getting red in the face as the men continued to disrespect her. He wanted to make sure she was safe. He  _wasn't_ jealous. 

They sneered at each other, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do about it, pretty boy?". The man's hand slid down to her backside, making complete eye contact with Arthur as he did so. This was the straw that broke the camels back. 

Wynona send her sharp elbow into the ribs of the man behind her, relieving her ass from his hand. He doubled over in pain, the wind being knocked out of his lungs with a harsh wheeze. She grabbed her pistol from her holster, but instead of shooting him point-black she whipped her body round with an extended arm. It battered the barrel off the gun against his temple, sending him to the floor in a simple crumple. His two friends pounced at her, wrestling to get her to the ground, but her reflexes were faster than the mere average galumph. She grabbed her cup of whisky, and with a quick jerk of her hand, had thrown it into the eyes of one of the men. She grabbed either side of his head, forced her skull against his with such impact that it knocked him out. He fell face first into the dirty floor below, leaving her with only one to deal with. The now empty glass that she held in her hand was a useful weapon as she threw it, full-throttle, at his face and watched it shatter into thousands of tiny little shards. It stunned him for a few seconds at best, but she knew it wouldn't be enough. Her gloved fist connected with his throat, a loud gasp escaping his mouth as he struggled to obtain oxygen. He swung at her one final time but missed and stumbled forward, giving Wynona the perfect opportunity to grasp the small amount of hair at the back of his head and force it down to meet her rising knee.

“Wow”, Charles muttered under his breath whilst Wynona fought the three men with ease from across the bar. Arthur didn’t have such a similar reaction however. He ran to her, but before he reached her, the damage had been done. Momentarily. The chaos resulted in a bar fight, the 4 Van Der Linde’s against the rest of the Valentine townsfolk.

Two men from the table in the back right grabbed their glasses, throwing them with might at Arthur across the room. “Hey!” He Exclaimed as one hit his shoulder, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces. The anger in his voice told the saloon that nothing good could come of this. The two men nearest the door took on Charles, whom he proved a good match for. Charles sent a punch into the stomach of one, watching in delight as he doubled over before him. As the other one did so, his companion kicked Charles in the shin which gave him the perfect opportunity to sock Smith in the nose before his third hit was inevitably blocked and rebutted. Charles hit his temple one, solid time and the man fell to the ground, followed by his friend whom Charles uppercutted with the rest of his remaining might.

The guy that sat beside the window when they all came in stood up and grabbed Javier, pinning him against the wall and getting a good few punches in before he blocked him and headbutted him with such force that it left him stunned for a second or two. “You punch like a girl, amigo!” He explained, angering the man even more. “I’ll show you how to throw a punch”. And he did, sending his fist into the jaw of the man much taller than himself, his head flying to the side in reaction, a small trickle of blood flying from his mouth like the dramatic reenactment of a boxing match.They continued to scuffle, the winner clearly not to be decided for the next minute or two.

Arthur and Wynona stood side by side at this point surrounded by 4 big, burly men. “You want to fight like a man, you can go down like a man”, the fattest of the quad slurred in her direction, putting his fists up in such a way that Wynona found comical, having a little chuckle at the man’s expense.

“I fight like a woman, and I’ll put you 6 feet under like a woman too” she sneered in response, taking a step out from behind Arthur’s broad shoulder. She was embarrassed from earlier, what the 3 of them had seen, but now wasn’t the time for reflection. Arthur smirked to himself, impressed at her way with words. She reminded him of himself at times, with the same big mouth yet a similar air of distance.

They men laughed loudly, buckling from metres away. Arthur was having none of it. “It would be wise to walk away from this one, mister” he advised, making them howl even louder.

“There ain’t nothin’ to walk away from feller, she’s a wom-..” he began to take a step towards them, cockiness thick on his tongue. There was only one thing Wynona hated more than a man who underestimated her because of her appearance, and that was a man who underestimated her because she is a woman. And so she had no choice but to punch him straight. Straight in the mouth. His lip burst, almost in two, with blood dribbling down his chin line a feral hound.

“I’m terribly sorry” Wynona sneered, “what were you saying?” She cocked her head to the side, getting underneath the man’s skin. “Oh! I remember! You were stating that I was a woman”. With another punch to the jaw, the man had stumbled back into the table, his friends doing nothing but provide an audience. She kicked him in the groin, making him groan loudly and clutch his crotch. With one more final blow to the side of the head, the man was out cold on the dirty wooden floor. Where he belonged. “I have more balls than you and I’m a damn lady”

The other two men looked on in slight disbelief, Arthur in the same boat as them. But the booming noise coming from the stairs distracted them all, making them look towards the flight of stairs at the back of the saloon where Arthur and Wynona were standing. The gun in his hand made her widen her eye as he cocked it and shot it exactly once through the roof. “You!” He Exclaimed, passing by Wynona and grabbing Arthur’s collar. He was taller than Mr. Morgan was, significantly larger too, but Arthur was never one to shy away from a fight, even if he wasn’t sure it was one he could win. “I’ll teach you about starting fight’s in my goddamn saloon”, he spat in his face before throwing him backwards, making Arthur stumble to catch his footing. Wynona wanted to step in, but Arthur shook his head at her from the sidelines. The man, who the others called Tommy, was the first to throw a punch, landing on Arthur’s sharp cheekbone. But the next one Morgan blocked with his forearm, leaving him just enough time to send a blow to his chin. They continued to back and forth for a minute or two before the man finally grabbed his collar once again, launching his backwards this time and over the wooden table before the window, knocking over the plates and glasses that had once sat there, now in pieces on the floor. The bartender wasn’t happy. Arthur fell from the table with a grunt, but got right back up again, able to do this all day.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Arthur shouted, his anger slightly scaring Wynona, regardless of it not being directed at her. Tommy stormed over to him once again, but instead of grabbing his collar this time, he manhandled him like he would a dead body and launched him. The window-pane shattered, Arthur Morgan sent flying through the frame onto the deck, before residing in the wet, muddy street below.

“Arthur!” Wynona Exclaimed measly, attempting to run after him, but the two men from earlier stopped her. She could hear the commotion outside, the people who stopped to gather in a circle around the fight. They each grabbed her arm, keeping her from lashing out and held her there. “Get off me you freaks!” She shouted, trying to yank her arms free from their strong grip but they only stayed silent, their grasps unwavering.Charles and Javier finally fought off the men who they had challenged in the very start, out of breath and bloody-faced. Charles looked across the room and saw Wynona, worried for Arthur who she had heard grunting in something that he hoped wasn’t pain.

“Let her go.” He pulled his pistol on them discreetly watching their eyes go wide in scared realisation. “Now”. They let go of her before running for their lives out of the back door, never to be seen again. Wynona took a deep breath before darting for the front door, unwanting of the image she was about to see. The saloon doors swung open and she pushed through the thick, swampy crowd rudely, with little apology provided. And there was Arthur, kneeling over the man, Tommy’s collar bundled in his hand and his other fist pulled back, about to deliver another blow to his head. But then she looked at Tommy, his eyes rolling back into his pulpy, beaten head, and Wynona knew she had to stop him or they would have the law on their backs once more.

“Arthur” she called out, running into the centre circle and grabbing his arm, stopping him from finishing him off. He looked at her with cold, steely eyes, a look she wished she had never saw. “Please, you won” she pleaded with him and his eyes darted from her, back to Tommy, before landing on her once more. His fist wavered before falling down in defeat, unable to go against her word for no apparent reason. He was caked in mud after being thrown around in the Valentine streets, so thick she could barely make out half of his features. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, looking up at his bloody face. He glanced down at her, a slight twinkle in his eye. They stood close together, Wynona concerned for her beaten friend.

“I’m fine” he nodded down, sending a small yet wonderfully reassuring smile her way. Charles and Javier walked out form the saloon, feeling as if they were intruding in some sort of moment between the two of them. But as the crowd began to disperse, two men became prominent, but thankfully, one of them was one Wynona knew.

_**Part 8** _

“Glad you guys are making friends here already”. Dutch approached them, his top hat and suit in bright contrast to the dismal colours around him. He was with a man Wynona had never seen before, a well-polished looking man with clean clothes and a meticulous moustache.

“Who is this fine young lady?” Asked the man, presenting his posh English accent. Before Dutch got the chance to answer him, she stuck out her own hand, greeting the Englishman.

“Wynona LaDue” she smiled at him sincerely, their eyes meeting in mutual respect. He smiled at her with warm eyes upon hearing her accent, but they soon blazed when he heard her name.

“Lord, I’m so sorry to hear about your father, dear girl” he put his other hand over her own, providing a comforting touch to his blunt statement. “He was an impressive man”

“Impressive is one word for it” she smiled in response, trying to hide the lump that had began to rise in her throat. Yet again, she bottled it up, and Wynona could tell it wouldn’t be long until she exploded once and for all. “I prefer ‘ruthless’”

He let out a single, drawn-out chuckle. “Yes, very good” he grinned, admiring her sense of humour in the face of devastation. Like a clown standing on the edge of a dark abyss. “Long time no see, my boys” he turned to Javier, Charles and Arthur, “nothing has changed I see”

“Plenty has changed Josiah, just not for you” Arthur commented, “Thanks for your help in Black water, by the way”, he sarcastically remarked, a sense of bitterness laced in his words.

Josiah sighed, “I’m sincerely sorry about that, but I’m back now. That’s actually what I came down here to tell you fellers about.” He paused for a moment before raising his hands to cause suspense. “Sean is alive. He’s in Blackwater awaiting his hearing. If you are swift, you may be able to get him out of there”

“Sean’s alive?!” Exclaimed Javier, but Wynona still wasn’t sure who he was, or why he had been taken. In fact, Wynona didn’t know a lot of what had happened before horseshoe overlook.

“Yes, dear boy. Very alive indeed. Be quick, mind, they won’t keep him there forever. I heard they were moving him up the river in a couple of days. Perhaps that is your window” he alluded, “anyway, I must get back to business. I have some errands to run. Lovely meeting you, Miss LaDue”

“Likewise” she smiled at him, nodding his way before he walked off. Dutch looked at Arthur who had been rolling around in the mud. He was caked in it. His hair, his face, his clothes. Dutch lingered for a second, looking Arthur up and down.

“Go and get cleaned up then meet us all back at camp. Wynona, stay with Arthur and make sure he gets into no more trouble” he ordered him, Wynona nodding at his command.

“No bother, Dutch. Come on, Arthur” she grabbed his arm, leading him to the hotel where he could grab a bath instead of washing in the water filled basin. She led him across the street, not speaking a word to him. She was still shaken up from the bar fight, and more specifically, how it had started.

“What came over you in there?” Arthur took hold of her upper arm, stopping them both at the door to the hotel. Wynona’s eyebrows almost met in the middle.

“No man touches me like that and gets away with it, Arthur Morgan. Had it not been you there, I would have stuck a bullet in his skull and left the state” she hissed, keeping her voice down, Arthur’s head fell towards the ground.

He cleared his throat, “well, I’m sorry I didn’t do more.” The words came out more like a whisper, the hurt evident in his dull tone.

“Don’t be, I can handle myself” she smiled up at him once again before putting some coins into his hand, “now please, go and take a bath”. Arthur chuckled, taking the change, “I’m gonna go take a look around the shops, come find me when you are done”

“Thank you, Wynona”. Arthur walked through the hotel doors, leaving Wynona on the steps alone. She looked to the floor, clenching jaw and taking a few deep breaths, calming her racing heart and surging anger. The walls were closing in, and it wasn’t going to be long until she was crushed. Yet she continued. Walking up the street towards the general store. The men and women still crowded the buildings, still getting a thrill after what had happened. They scowled at her, drawing her dirty look after dirty look.

The door of the general store rung the bell, alerting the owner of her entrance. “I don’t want no trouble in here” he spat at her.

“You aren’t gonna get none” she put her head down and looked around the store, nobody saying a word. She fumbled around in her inside jacket pocket for her money, her back to the owner.

“Weren’t you just in the saloon havin’ a brawl?” Asked the shopkeeper, making Wynona turn to face him. He seemed intimidated, scared almost.

She chuckled lightly, “I was merely defending myself, mister”

“It’s good...a lady knowing how to fight I mean” he clarified, making LaDue smirk a little. She ‘knew how to fight’. “That man is always hitting on any woman that breathes in his direction, glad he’s finally been taught a lesson”

“It’s my duty” she giggled, picking up some ammunition and taking it to the counter. The man laughed in response. Wynona noticed how handsome he was, almost too handsome to be working in a shop.

“You ain’t from around here, are you?” He asked, and Wynona shook her head. His curious eyes wandered his face.

“No, mister, born in France to two very different people. Glad I’m not American in this day and age” she shoved the change he had given her back into her coat pocket, “folks here aren’t too welcoming” she glanced up and met his eye. “Not that it bothers me all that much”

He smiled, nodding his head and surprisingly agreeing with her statement, “If it’s any consolation, not if all us folks are like that. Perhaps the stares aren’t because you are different, but rather because you are very beautiful”

A song that had been sung to Wynona many a’ time. But this man did little peak her interest. “Thank you, mister. I must be going”

“Feel free to come back any time” he offered and she knew that never again would she want to encounter the cheesy man.

“I shall keep it in mind” she waved back as she left the man in her tracks. Arthur waited outside, glancing from pillar to post in an attempt to keep himself occupied. She rolled her eyes into the back of her head as she left, sick of most men for one day.

“Did you get what you came for?” Arthur asked, seeming relieved. And clean. Wynona hummed, tired out from all the fighting but knowing she had a long day ahead of her.

“You look clean” she chuckled whilst shoving her hands in her pockets, “makes a change”

Arthur punched her arm playfully, “I’m startin’ to think you get something from makin’ fun of me”. Wynona hit him back and he feigned hurt, clutching his arm like it was about to fall off.

“I get nothing but an overwhelming sense of joy” she simpered, looking up at his face and seeing the bruising already to begin. Light purple rimmed his eye, it looked nasty. “You’re starting to bruise.” She noted. 

“I know.” He touched his eye delicately, wincing when his fingers grazed the skin. Arthur hissed a little. “Shit”

“Let me take a look” she grabbed his arm and stopped him near the entrance to the hotel, they faced one another, mere inches apart. Arthur tensed, her dwindling fingers brushing against the cut that worked its way through his eye. His hand flew up to meet her wrist, rather harshly. “Sorry” she frowned, leaning off of her top toes before beginning to walk once more. “It should be okay. The cut isn’t too bad”. Wynona looked away from Arthur awkwardly, trying to find anything else to focus on rather than the butterflies that wrecked havoc on her insides. Internally she groaned, for the last time she felt like this for another human, she became an outlaw overnight.

“We should get back to camp, see what’s happening with Sean” he advised and Wynona nodded, agreeing solemnly. She enjoyed the time they spent alone. Little did she know, Arthur revelled in it. They reached their horses, boarding them before riding back to camp. 


	5. A struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16

_**Part 9** _

 

Dutch, Javier And Josiah sat in Dutch’s tent around the table, figuring out how they were possibly going to get Sean out of this sticky situation. They were deep in rigorous conversation, Josiah telling them the ins-and-outs of his unfortunate circumstances.

“Who are we sending?” Asked Javier, not seeing Arthur and Wynona linger outside the tent. There was a moments silence whilst they deliberated.

“Arthur, Yourself and Wynona” Dutch stated, seemingly rather certain on his decision. Javier agreed but not everyone was so convinced.

Josiah looked sceptical, “the lady?” Dutch leaned forward, suddenly intrigued in the conversation. He had high hopes for the young woman.

“Best shot I ever did she, Josiah. She’s the woman for the job. She’s thorough too, clever like.” He explained, making Arthur silently nudge her shoulder. “Miss LaDue and Arthur are pally, with them and Javier, the job is as well as done”

Josiah cackled, “Pally, huh?” Javier tried not to crack a smile, but couldn’t contain himself. “I’ll keep it in mind” winked he.

“Well it’s fairly obvious he’s sweet on her but for the camps morale, we don’t tend to bring it up” Dutch noted, making Arthur barge through the opening to the tent, his footsteps loud to draw attention from the conversation at hand. Wynona’s face felt like fire that spread up to the tips of her ears. Mortified, she followed.

“Oh, speak of the devil!” Exclaimed Josiah, sharing a look between Javier and Dutch who simpered in response. “Mr. Escuella, Miss LaDue and yourself are going to take a trip up to Blackwater and get Sean. Last I heard, they are travelling him up the river in a boat and then handing him off to Ike Skelding’s boys.”

“Well we best be going.”

 

 

Arthur, Wynona and Javier began to ride out to Blackwater, a word not being spoken between Arthur and Wynona after the remarks in the tent. Javier and LaDue on the other hand, were in riveting conversation.

“So what were you, before you were an outlaw?” Asked Javier, looking over to Wynona. She thought for a second, unsure of how to answer the question. After a few weeks, she had began to trust the folks around here. Arthur, Javier and Charles especially.

“I was that of a ‘toff’, as the British would say. After my father went straight, he struck fortune” she began to explain, “Bought the biggest house in Saint Denis. I lived there until I was 18 when I moved to a big house in the forest of Lemoyne.”

“Lucky for some” said Javier, “when did you move here?” He continued to question and Arthur frowned at how easily she shared her past with Javier.

“When I was very young. I only remember small bits of my immigration.” She noted, turning to Arthur who instantly faced away. Embarrassed about earlier on. “What about you, Arthur? What were you before you became an outlaw?” Javier chuckled to himself, Wynona unaware of Arthur’s past.

“I wasn’t nothin’. Been an outlaw since I was a kid” he explained, making Javier laugh once again. “You got something to share with the group?” Asked Arthur, beckoning for Javier to share what was so funny.

“Arthur, you have always been an angry delinquent” he smirked at the man, forcing him even further into his bad mood, “and I have a good feeling you always will be”

Arthur nodded, ignoring his statement and riding ahead of Wynona and Javier. Wynona tutted, trying to shout him back, but he ignored her too. “Arthur!”

“I guess since you came he’s been less grumpy, so I should be grateful” Javier mentioned, “If this is how he is going to be then I’d be prepared for a long day”. Wynona giggled, a little guilty for not defending Arthur. But it simply wasn’t her place. “Charles was telling me that you tuned his guitar. Do you play?”

“I do. Did since I was a teenager. I liked to write my own songs, still do sometimes” she smiled, thinking of how cheesy some of her songs have been.

“Really?” Javier seemed fascinated, “you should let me hear one sometime”. LaDue chortled in response, shaking her head.

“I would rather the ground swallow me whole” she chuckled, watching as Arthur rode with one hand, the other hanging down by his solemn side. She wished she could comfort him. There was something playing on his mind.

They had arrived at their destination, an overlook at Blackwater that showed them the perfect advantage. They climbed from their horses and walked over, Javier being the first to lie down and get his binoculars from his bag. “There’s Sean” he pointed out, and Wynona having no binoculars, she had to squint to see him. A lanky man with long ginger hair had a bag thrown over his head, reminiscent to Wynona’s travels up here. “They are putting him on the boat. If we follow the trail, we’ll look like innocent folks out in the wilderness” Javier stated, looking over to where they began to lead him.

“And then what?” Arthur asked bluntly, making Wynona cringe. “We just hope they let him off at the next stop?” Javier sighed in response, not all for his difficult mood.

“They will stop up-river and hand him over to Skelding’s boys. We cause a distraction then take them out silently.” Javier explained, his voice quiet and his movements hushed by his careful steps. “Come on, we don’t want to fall behind”

They rode their horses along the trail beside the cavern, the long drop down making Wynona a little queasy. In single file, with Wynona in between Javier and Arthur, she felt ever so slightly safer. The right was short lived, with the boat baying only 5 minutes up the river.

“Who’s going down there?” Asked Javier, looking at the two of them, “to cause a distraction”

Wynona sighed, “I’ll go, might as well”. Arthur objected, not wanting Wynona to be in the first target when things go wrong.

“No, I’ll go down” he argued, “things could go tits up”. Wynona stared him down, shrinking under his glare, but holding her ground.

“That’s why I’m going” she bluntly retorted, turning on her horse without another word, leaving Arthur to frown in her dust. Her hair flounced in the wind that ran through it, the bright sun beaming off it. He just hoped things went well. She told Apollo to run away and adopted a fake limp as she ran down the path to the river. “Help! Please, fellers, you have to help me”. They pointed their guns at her, making Arthur wince in fright. Soon, they lowered them once she raised her hands. “I ain’t here to cause trouble, it’s just my horse, she-she collapsed in the heat.” Wynona walked around them so that their backs faced Javier and Arthur who were now hiding behind the small cluster of rocks. “Messed my ankle up, so she did”.

“Her American accent is impressive” laughed Javier with a whisper, listening to her carefully from their vantage point. Arthur nodded, too concentrated on listening for trouble to acknowledge him. The men stayed silent, looking at one another briefly. But before they had the chance to say anything, Javier and Arthur were creeping up behind them with their knives at the ready. Other men had already handed Sean off, and now he was on his way to a camp nearby for the night. “Now, Arthur”. They pounced on the two guards, their knives impaling into their necks, small squirts of blood seeping through their desperate fingers. “Great job, Wynona”. They fell to the ground in unison.

“What are we doing about the men up the cavern?” Asked Arthur, looking at the men further up who patrolled the area. Wynona, however, has brought her bow with her.

Javier thought for a moment, “Wynona, climb up there”, he pointed to a ledge in the rocks of the cavern, and Wynona swallowed but Arthur protested once more.

“I should-..” he began, but Wynona interjected kindly.

“Arthur,” she put her hand on his forearm, “I’ll be okay.” The warm smile that shone on her cheeks made Arthur relax a little, letting Javier finish his commands.

“Use your bow and shoot the men on the edge down, we will work out way up and take them out from the ground. We will wait for you to get into position” he explained, giving Wynona time to find a way onto the edge that jutted out from the rocks. There were indents in the stone that gave her the perfect place to grip. She pulled herself up, knowing she would have to leap to make the ledge for it was too high up. Her forearms began to burn a little, with her feet desperately clinging on. Arthur’s heart raced, not knowing how she was going to go about this.

“Wynona!” Arthur whisper-shouted as she jumped. She used her legs to push her body up the wall. Her arm swinging around and catching the ledge with nothing more than her fingertips. Luckily, she was strong. Her body twisted as she regained herself before pulling her whole body up, grunting as she did so. She rolled onto the ledge, out of breath and sore from the scale. Arthur looked up at her with disappointment, unaware of how foolish her action had been. Wynona had never been one to risk-assess.

With her bow at the ready, she aimed at the first man, hitting him in the head perfectly. He fell from the top of the cavern onto the ground below, but before the man who had noticed him fall for the time to shout out, he had met the same fate. From down below, Javier and Arthur worked as a pair to take out the groups of two guards at a time, ensuring they were in complete silence.

Complete silence, that is, until the sound of a gun cocking made Javier and Arthur freeze in their positions. The cold metal against the back of Morgan’s shocked him, dropping his knife in the dirt below. Wynona stood perfectly still, pulling her dagger from the holster carefully as to not make any noise. The drop down was bearable, if you enjoyed broken ankles, so she had to make sure she didn’t miss.

“I recommend you put those knives down. Mr. Morgan. Mr Escuella” his voice was quiet, which was rather convenient for the crew. He pulled the safety on the gun, getting ready to blow Arthur’s brains into the floor in-front. Wynona kicked in to overdrive, leaping from the ledge and landing on the unsuspecting man below, using her airtime to ready her knife in the correct position. She impacted with his body, the two of them flying to the ground.

He used the handle of his gun to bash her nose, sending her head flying backwards and a dribble of blood coming through. As he did so, she drove the knife into his chest, killing him almost instantly. Wynona put her hand to her nostrils, watching as the blood dripped repeatedly into her palm. It stung, like she had really just been hit in the face with a metal pistol. Javier hissed, cringing at the sight of the blood that popped in her Cupid’s bow before continuing down her upper lip and into her mouth, collating in her gums and teeth and turning them red. “Bastard”, she cursed, wiping her bloody chin with the back of her sleeve, watching the ruby liquid smear it’s way into her jacket.

“That looks pretty bad, amigo” Javier concernedly noted, motioning towards the blood that virtually ran into her mouth, small clots of red gathering in her Cupid’s bow.

“Fine” she sighed, “I’m...fine” Wynona reassured them both, Arthur looking on, still shaken up from what had just happened. She tipped her head forward, watching as the blood dripped onto the dusty floor below. With her eyes watering, she spat the blood from her mouth, loathing the metallic taste. “It’s just a bit of blood...” she trailed off, trying to pinch her nose in an attempt to get it to stop. “If you guys go ahead I’ll, um, I’ll catch up”. She seemed distracted, but a hit to the face does that.

“And then if more of them show up? You can’t put together a sentence, I’m not betting on you getting out alive” Arthur said, watching Wynona on her hands and knees, her hair falling over her face.

She spat once more, “Well sincerest apologies, Morgan. But I’d rather a bloody nose than a dead you”, she spat in a different way this time, virtually hissing the sentence.

“That’s cute and all but we really should be going” Javier pronged and Wynona stood up, tutting at the idea of being rushed. She felt the blood crust on her face instantly with the cold air. Arthur and Javier both cringed at the sight, the branches of blood caking the bottom half of her face making them both wince. 

“Yessir” she mumbled, just wanting the day to be over with already, having regretted coming to help them save a man she had never even met. They turned up the path of the cavern, a familiar face standing at the top with two bodies lying on either side of him. He waved down, and Wynona’s glazed eyes finally made out Charles.

They made their way to him, “I thought I would come and give you a hand” he explained before turning to Wynona and widening his eyes. “That looks...nasty”

“Feels worse” she tried to muster a chuckle, but the throbbing in her nose made it impossible. She hissed, regretting that decision instantly.

“They took Sean up to a camp in the forest. Let’s take the horses, it’ll take too long on foot” he advised, and whistled for the horses to come bounding over as if they were wild steeds, it was a sight to behold. Apollo made the rest of them look like toy figures, his long, thick legs making the ground shake below them.

“Let’s get going”

 

Part 10

They continued up the hill, and through the trees, Wynona trying to scrub away the dry blood on her face and watching it crumble into her hands. Her face, it ached, and no doubt it would begin to bruise sooner or later. Her mouth burned too, being bashed in the face with a pistol wasn’t a fun experience. She formed a fist tightly to try and stave away the pain, biting the inside of her cheek to stop her from shouting out.

“If I’m right, the camp is on the other side of these trees” Charles noted, pointing to the thin layer of stalky trees before them, barely covering from the camp that was just visible through the branches. “How are we going in?” Asked he, looking towards Arthur, the most dominant man of the group.

“We go in quietly, stick together and take them out one by one” he ordered, jumping down from his horse and tying it to the nearest tree trunk, not that it would keep his horse as bay if things did go awry, it was as thick as the branches that hung from it.

“Surely if we stick together they have a bigger chance of seeing us?” Wynona kindly objected, concerned for the safety of the group.

He turned to look at her with an odd look in his eye. “We are following my plan. Like it or loathe it”. Wynona’s heart sunk, wondering what could she possibly have done to make him act like this.

“Fine” she snapped, “but if one of us get killed, don’t come crying to me”, her voice was harsh whilst the two men stood awkwardly, waiting for their row to be over. “And just for the record, Morgan, being a cranky old bastard does nothing for the group morale”. Arthur said nothing in retort, instead ducking down and going through the trees, leaving Charles and Javier to stand wide-eyed and dazed.

Instantly, however, the shooting began, having not been low enough to avoid being seen. Javier hid behind the piles of logs that were scattered around the medium sized camp, getting sprayed with bullet after bullet. Wynona grabbed her rifle, getting it ready to shoot the men on the cliff that Charles noticed moments before. Arthur got cover beside Wynona, ensuring she didn’t get hurt once more today, there had been enough of that to last all week. Over time, the shooting became less frequent as they cleared out man after man in a desperate attempt to save their damsel in distress.

“Up there, on the cliff!” Javier shouted, “there’s more of them!” Wynona sighed, knowing there was no hitting then from here. 3 of them, all lined up perfectly on the cliff overlooking the camp. At least it’s a challenge, thought Wynona. She stepped out from behind the logs, ignoring Arthur’s shouts at her to come back, and frantically asking if she was stupid. But brave is the kindest synonym for stupid. She readied her two pistols, getting ready to shoot at the men if she had so. They halted their shooting when they saw her step out, confused and not wanting to shoot a lady.

“I’m giving you a chance to walk away” she raised her hands, watching as they lowered their guns, “Drop your weapons and this can all be over” Wynona shouted up to them. There was a moments silence before the raised their guns again, sharply and ready to shoot her. But Wynona was quick, thankfully. In the time it had taken for the men to raise their guns and pull the trigger, she had already pulled her pistols from their respective holsters and pulled the trigger on the three, watching as they toppled over the cliff like dominoes.

Arthur, Javier and Charles emerged from behind the logs, both parts weary and impressed and there hung Sean, upside down and in mid-air, bound by his feet to a tree. Morgan drew his knife and cut him down, getting satisfaction from the noise he made when he hit the ground like a sandbag.

“Arthur” his Irish accent made his name sound like a birdsong, so pretty and delicate, a contrast to the man himself. “I do have to say, you were a lot less ugly from the other angle”

“Come on” he groaned as he pulled him off his feet, pacing around him like a vulture.

“Do I not get a hug, Arthur?” Asked Sean, extending his arms, “a warm embrace for a lost brother now found”. His accent amused Wynona, one she hadn’t heard before, but she was instantly a fan.

Arthur chuckled sarcastically, walking to face him with a hand placed firmly on his shoulder. “You know, nothing means more to me than this gang” he began to explain to Sean, “the bond we share..its the most real thing to me. I would kill for it and I would happily die for it” he leaned in to his face, “but in spite of all that, I would have easily left you here to rot if Charles hadn’t stopped me”. Wynona let out a small chuckle as Arthur walked away.

“I don’t believe a word of that, Arthur” Sean objected, “the kind a young whippersnapper can really admire. Speaking of, care to tell me who this is?” He motioned to Wynona and Arthur nodded in response.

“This here is Wynona” Arthur leaned in to her ear, “go check the cabin, see if there’s anything worth taking”. She nodded, wandering off much to the dismay of the Irishman, leaving him rambling to the other 3. The cabin door was shut, which was odd considering Wynona was sure she had seen people come out during the fight. But she went in anyway, taking not one step in the door before a punch winded the air from her stomach. Instantly she turned around and saw a pistol aiming at her, the barrel perfectly aligned with the centre of her eyebrows.

“A word, and I blow your brains out” they spoke, a bandana covering their face. She said nothing, but reached out and quickly snatched his hand away, pointing the gun towards the ceiling. He shot exactly thrice, trying to aim the gun at her with all of his might. What Wynona lacked in strength, she made up for in quickness. But that’s exactly what Wynona needed in a fight like this..strength. The struggle resulted in Wynona being forced against the wall, knocking ornaments and cups from the fireplace. They slid along the wall, wiping the pictures from the brick surfaces and making them smash on the ground. Wynona grunted as he grabbed her hair, a big disadvantage to having such long locks. With his leg behind hers, he pushed her body backwards, both of them landing on the wooden flooring harshly. With him straddling, he drew his knife from his belt, i his gun having been knocked to the other side of the room in the struggle.

“Get off of me!” She shouted, desperation thick in her voice as she tried to push his hands away from her throat, the tip of the blade inching closer to her flesh.

“Amos LaDue doesn’t deserve to lie peacefully the stupid gypsy!” The man shouted in her face, trying to force his hands further. “You should be in the pit with him! Fucking foreigner!” Wynona’s face contorted, as she tried to push him away, her feet thrashing beneath the man. A rock came loose from the fireplace, falling just out of her reach. Her fingers desperately wiggles towards it, but he saw her struggle and used one hand to push it further away. This gave Wynona a small window of time to punch his hand away from her, the knife slipping free and hitting the wall on the other side of the room. “Bitch!” He yelled and instead placed his hands around her throat, fastening them there. My demise, thought Wynona, this is it. LaDue thrashed underneath him, feeling his fingers tighten around her airwaves, making it harder for her to gasp for air. With every movement, her lungs emptied further. Small black dots began to cloud her vision, her blows becoming weaker and more timid. “Tell Amos I said hi” he sneered from under his bandana, watching as Wynona’s face began to turn a light shade of blue, the struggle was almost over.


	6. A saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17

_**Part 11** _

The door burst open, a single gunshot to the brain sending the man flying off of her before residing on the floor underneath the table. Wynona gasped so desperately for air that her throat resented her for doing so. Phlegm fuelled coughs racked through her body as the lungs that were once starved feasted on the beautiful air around her. Wynona rolled over on the floor, trying to sit up and regain her breath.

“What the fuck happened?” Asked Charles from behind Arthur’s shoulder, Arthur still holding the smoking hot gun in the air.

Wynona waved to him, apologising for ignoring his question. Arthur rushed over to her, grabbing her forearm and pulling her from the ground. “He came from nowhere, I swear” she smiled a little, her throat coarse and sore.

“Not really ain’t the time for joking, LaDue” He scorned, looking down at her with a concerned look in his eye. “Thought we’d find you dead, so I did”

“Very much alive, so I am” she poked fun at Arthur’s uneven vernacular, making him punch her arm lightly. “Stupid bumpkin.” She cursed, the words he had spat at her playing in her head like a broken record. Amos LaDue doesn’t deserve to lie peacefully the stupid gypsy.

“Are you okay?” Charles Smith asked from the doorway, having heard the things the mysterious man shouted at her. They all did.

Wynona glanced towards him with a thought playing round her head, a certain look in her eye that nobody could place their finger on. Resentment, it was, for all those who dared speak bad of her father. A new dimension became clear to Wynona, one filled with anger and hurt, but through it cleared a path to a happier one with love and joy. But it was out of reach. And it always would be now that Amos LaDue was a dead man. She swallowed harshly and nodded, grabbing her gun from the floor and looking down at the man who had attacked her, blood spilling from the hole in her head.

“poubelle américaine, j'espère que tu pourriras en enfer” she hissed at him, Arthur shifting on his feet at her French. It was something he had favoured.

“We should split up” Arthur explained, “Javier, take Sean. Charles, it’s best if you go alone. Wynona and I will meet you back at camp”

“See you soon” Charles waved them a goodbye, and Javier led Sean to his horse across the camp. Wynona and Arthur walked through the battlefield, dozens of men lying dead around the place. But rather them than us, thought Arthur. As they mounted their steeds, Wynona put her gun in her holster, but let her finger linger on the trigger for a moment or two, like she couldn’t bare it not being there.

“Arthur,” began Wynona, “what does whippersnapper mean?” Her voice timid, embarrassed of her slightly broken English.

“A young feller that’s overly confident” he explained to her sincerely, not in any position to judge her. “Like Sean”

Wynona thought for a minute or two, trying to translate it back to French. “freluquet”

Arthur looked at her, impressed. “How many languages do you actually speak?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, wanting to find out more about Wynona.

She held up three fingers, “Yiddish, French and English. Have you ever heard Yiddish?” Wynona asked, Arthur shaking his head in response. Little did she know, he didn’t even know what Yiddish was. “dank far shporn meyn lebn tsurik dort. ikh shuldik ir eyner, arthur morgan”

His eyes lit up, “and what did that mean?”

“Thanks for saving my life back there. I owe you one, Arthur Morgan” She smirked a little, looking into the far off distance in an attempt to cover her burning cheeks. “Really though. Thank you.”

He turned to her and smiled, “It’s the least I could have done”

_** Part 12 ** _

 

They finally returned to camp, Wynona able to rid her face of the dried blood that had sat there for an hour. The cold water hit her face, shocking her system a little, but it felt nice. It caught in ringlets of her hair, wetting them and making them hang over her damp face. From across the camp Dutch, Arthur, and Charles stood, talking about what had happened today.

“She’s brave. But for all the wrong reasons” Charles said, when Dutch and Arthur looked at him confusedly, he expanded. “I don’t think she cares if she gets killed, it makes her reckless”

Dutch knitted her eyebrows at him, “what the hell makes you think she doesn’t care if she gets killed?” Arthur didn’t ask, because he understood what Charles meant. Dutch wasn’t there when she walked out into the middle of a gunshot ridden fight.

“She’s grieving, Dutch. She keeps doing stupid things and one day...one day it might just kill her” He told him, “I heard her crying out by the rock”. The Rock was the the large stone that sat on the edge of the cliff that provided peace and quiet, and a great view. “When she noticed me, she just...stopped”

“Okay, she’s embarrassed. Wouldn’t you be too?” Dutch tried to justify her actions, for he liked Wynona, and felt a duty in ensuring she was okay.

Arthur looked to the ground and folded his arms, “Charles is right. She just...bottles everything up. Sooner or later, she’s going to snap. I can’t imagine it being pretty”

“I’d still fuck her” Micah purred, walking round to the side of the tent where they stood. They watched as sat on the edge of her bed in her vest and trousers, untying her knee high boots that clung to her shins. “Might have to feed her up a bit but...” he growled looking at her thin frame, “She could have it”

Arthur turned to him, disgust riddled on his face. “Do you mind?” Charles shook his head and walked away, not wanting to hear how they were talking about her, because in reality, Smith respected her. Dutch planted his face in his palm, cringing at the words he had just heard about Wynona.

“What?” He asked, “you think you have a chance with a girl like her?” Micah buckled with laugher, making Wynona glance over as well as a few other campmates. “You know what they make them do in France?”

“No. And I don’t want to know” Arthur stated, folding his arms.

“They make them dance around with a little ribbon like a circus freak. There’s something about gypsies. The men...oh the men love it” Micah laughed, “you couldn’t handle a woman like that”

“Shurrup you creepy old shit” Arthur spat at him, now being reminded why he hated Micah so much, “lay a single finger on her and it’s not just her you will have to be dealing with” he threatened, his face beginning to heat up.

“You can’t fight every man in the Wild West, Morgan.” He sneered, watching him walk away to his own cot beside Wynona, who lay peacefully sleeping already. As he lay up, he found himself tossing and turning in anger. Micah made his blood boil. Wynona faced away from, her back to his wagon. He saw the scar that slithered down her back, and couldn’t help but admire it. The contrast between her tanned skin and the light scar.

“Is something the matter, Morgan?” She asked, telling him she wasn’t asleep.

He cleared his throat, “Not at all”

“Really?” She turned around in her cot, now facing him, “because I can hear you huffing like a child”. A little smile raised to her cheeks, a shy one.

Arthur shook his head, “Stay away from Micah Bell” he advised, looking directly into her eyes, “He’s not safe”. She nodded, her expression taking a more serious tone. “I don’t want him hurting you”

“Loud and clear, Arthur. I trust your...what’s the word...intuition”. Her words made Arthur stifle a childish giggle. There was a moment of silence, but a comfortable one.“Thank you”

Arthur looked confused, “what for?”

Wynona yawned deeply before getting comfortable in her cot whilst still facing him. “For being my friend, it’s nice to know someone has my back”. Arthur’s heart began to warm a little, his stomach running round in circles like a little boy. It had been a long time since he felt like this. But the last time he did, he had his heart broken in two.

“Who says I have your back?” Arthur joked, wiping the hair that fell over his face away. She chuckled half-heartedly, slowly becoming more sleepy with every passing word.

“You know, Arthur Morgan” she began to slur her words, her eyes dropping, “they are wrong about you...” Wynona’s eyelids shut over, her breathing becoming slower. “you do have a heart”


	7. A gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18

_**Part 13** _

 

“Bonjour!” Wynona whistled, approaching Dutch, already dressed and ready to go out. “I was just wondering...” she paused, putting a finger to her lips in deep thought, “...is there anything you want from town?”

Dutch laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder like he was talking to his own child. He had a tendency to do that. “Aren’t you dressed a bit fancy to be going into Valentine?” He motioned to her red frilly top and the bright red lipstick that was carefully applied to her plump lips.

“I am actually visiting Saint Denis” she explained, “My hair is in need of a trim and I refuse to trust anybody else. So, do you need anything?” Dutch put a hand on her back, pulling her closer in response.

“Between you and I, I thought we could have a small celebration. You know, because Sean’s back. If you could try and pick up some different foods” he rushed over to the money time, rustling through the notes and coins.

“It’s okay, Dutch. I’ve got it” she cracked a sneaky smile, her teeth straight and proper, a clear indication that she grew up rich. “I should be back before teatime.” Wynona tied a red handkerchief around her neck, pulling her hat on over the unruly mane of hair that she travelled to get cut.

“You are an Angel!” He Exclaimed, rushing over to her and grabbing her upper arms, planting a big kiss on her cheek before sending her on her way. From his wagon, Arthur watched the warming exchange, and then Wynona sauntering away with a spring in her step. He approached Morgan who carved a stake with a stick he had found beside his cot. “I wonder what has got into her. Maybe she’s finally getting better”

“You have to get worse before you get better, Dutch. Even I know that. Let’s just appreciate it while we have it” Arthur explained to him and Van Der Linde swiftly agreed. “Oh, Arthur, put this on her table for when she gets back”. Dutch handed him a coin, a hole straight through the head of the man on the front. Arthur nodded, but instantly had a better idea. He stood up, searching the camp for the right person, someone he knew could help.

“Charles!” He beckoned him over, “You don’t happen to have a small chain. Like a necklace or somethin’?” Charles thought for a minute, trying to rack his memory.

“I should do. Why? What is it for?” He motioned towards Arthur’s closed palm. Morgan showed him the coin.

“Amos LaDue shot a hole through this coin years ago, before Dutch met us. She might appreciate this more”.

Charles laughed, raising his eyebrows at his uncommon kindness. “She’ll make a man out of you yet, Arthur Morgan” he poked fun at his friend in need, “here, it should be small enough”

“Appreciate it” he mumbled under his breath, mentally noting to pay him back for his helpfulness as he walked away, looping the small chain through the hole of the coin and walking over to her wagon. Something caught his eye, however. Stray pieces of paper lay on the barrels beside her cot, meticulous handwriting in a song layout on the yellowing pages. He didn’t want to intrude on what it was, but he simply couldn’t help it.

Every time I close my eyes

It's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes

It's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

 

Arthur’s eyebrows were furrowed by the time he had put the first bit of paper down, a slight pain in his heart at the dismal lyrics. He had heard her explain to Javier yesterday that she enjoyed writing about her feelings and turning it into a song.

The second piece of paper wasn’t understandable to Arthur, it being in a language he didn’t speak. It looked like French, but he couldn’t be sure. Next, his fingers traced along the table to a photo that sat beside her bed. A tall man, strong-looking stood behind a smaller, recognisable woman who he knew to be Wynona. She was younger, by about 10 years or so and she looked happy. As he flipped the frame over, he read the message written on the back. This was the same photo that she had unpacked the first night.

“Poor girl” he cursed under his breath, placing it back in its place and leaving the necklace on her bedside table. Arthur hadn’t ever really went through the grief of losing a parent he cared so deeply for that the world around him caved in when lost them. Her eyes looked so full of life and light, and now, it was like someone had turned her off by the switch. Today was different, however. She had gotten up out of bed, and made such an effort with her appearance that she looked like a different person. Arthur was glad.

He got his journal from his satchel, the pencil he had treasured along with it and lay on his cot, trying to image her face in its justice. Arthur whistled while he drew the sharp, honed outline of her head. He shaded in her face entirely, adding shadows to were her pointy and announced cheekbones sat, and where the shadow hit her chin from the lips that sat plumply on the centre of her face. The bridge of her nose was straight, but the tip was upturned in such a manner he had never seen before.Dark freckles laced her deep skin, a constellation across her nose and under her eyes. He drew large, wide eyes with eyelashes that cast a shadow on her upper cheek and proceeded to shade in her iris’, unable to do them proper justice with a writing pencil. He carefully drew in her thick, yet well-kept eyebrows that framed her face. He moved onto his favourite thing to draw, her hair. Arthur moved the pencil in tight circles, making sure to add the volume her natural hair little did lack. With the compulsory strands that hung over her face, the drawing was pretty much complete.

‘Wynona LaDue, the most astounding woman I have met. I am one big fool.’

“That’s lookin’ pretty good, Arthur” Abigail spoke from behind him, looking over his shoulder to the drawing. “You two seem good friends”, she walked around to the side of his bed. “Say, you wouldn’t think she wants a female friend? Just cause things get pretty dim around here” her voice was hushed but sweet, her interest making Arthur smile a little.

“You know, I think she might” he spoke at her, “Talk to her when she comes back from town”

Abigail couldn’t help but hide her excitement. “It’s just...” she began to whisper, “she’s so cool, and damn, is she beautiful. Her hair...well I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. I can see why it’s easy for guys like you to admire her”

“Guys like me?” Arthur enquired, raising an eyebrow as Abigail sat on the end of his bed beside his feel.

She looked towards her hands and began to fiddle with them. “You know...men who think they are tough” Abigail chuckled, “Ones who keep to themselves.”

“Well it’s nice to know what you think of me” he exchanged laughter with Abigail. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course, Arthur”

“I feel like I’m bound to make a fool of myself, again” He lowered his voice, “with Mary, I feel like my ego still ain’t quite recovered from that.”

“Mary Gilles was a coward, Arthur. A coward who didn’t deserve a man like you. You know I never liked her” she spat bitterly at her actions towards her friend. “I say...go for it”

“Go for it?”

Abigail sighed, “Don’t play coy with me, Arthur Morgan. Wynona and yourself, you _have_ something. It’d be a right shame to let it go to waste. A man like you, Arthur, you can help her out of whatever hole she has herself in right now”

Arthur’s face began to burn at the topic, but he trusted Abigail with most things. More than John, anyway. “I’m afraid I ain’t very experienced with this sort of stuff”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of” she nudged his shoulder. “Just do what you see best. Apart from scaring her off, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“John’s starting to rub off on you, Abigail Roberts” Arthur chuckled, watching as Abigail walked off back to Sadie and Tilly who sat around the table. He lay back in his bed, placing his hat over his face in an attempt to think, but slowly, underneath the hot sun, he dozed off.

 

He was woken up to the sound of Dutch shouting across the camp to a person who had just ridden in, but Arthur dreaded taking his hat off in fright of the hot summer sun beaming its way into his eyes.

“An Angel, you are” He boomed, presumably greeting her as she climbed off her horse. Arthur has instantly recognised the energy that came to camp along with her. “We will all appreciate this, my dear”. Arthur peeked out of corner of his hat, watching as Wynona carried crates of food to his tent. Her puffy top matched her lipstick, bright red and rather obnoxious, but not in Arthur’s eyes. Wynona’s hair had been trimmed, it was tidy now, but still long and magnificent. Abigail rushed up to her from the table like she was some sort of celebrity. LaDue turned to her with kind eyes.

“Abigail!” She Exclaimed, glad to see her, and even more so to remember her name. “Are you alright?”

Abigail fumbled with the pages of a book that she held in both hands. “Arthur mentioned that you enjoyed reading, so as a thanks for keeping Jack company these past couple of weeks, I bought you this in town”. She handed her the hardback book, nervous to see her reaction. Around the world in eighty days. Her face was emotionless for a moment or two as her fingers traced over the writing on the front. Abigail’s face fell, “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, I just thought...”

“No..” Wynona swallowed harshly, “No, I love it. This was my favourite book growing up..” her voice grew smaller, “my father used to read it to me” a faint smile could be seen, one of thanks. “Thank you, Abigail”. Much to Roberts’ surprise, Wynona pulled her in for a hug, engulfing her completely as Sadie and Tilly watched, Arthur too. “If you ever need anything, please let me know”.

“I will, Wynona, I will” she smiled, trying to hide her excitement. Over Wynona’s shoulder she looked at Arthur, grinning cheesily, he smiled back at her, giving her a thumbs up in response. They broke apart and Wynona traipsed over to her bed, a stupid smile plastered from cheek to cheek.

“You’re back” Arthur noted from under his hat, “Have you had your hair cut?” Wynona turned to him, her grin growing even bigger.

“You noticed” her smile began to fade a little but the remains glittered in her eyes. “I was afraid it was all for nothing”. Arthur swallowed harshly, picking at the hangnails at the side of his thumb. “Oh” she mumbled under her breath whilst she turned to the table that housed the coin turned necklace. As Wynona picked it up, she let it fall around in her hand, the sun hitting the copper. Her slightly shaking fingers fumbled with the clasp around the back of her neck, her large tufts of hair getting in the way. She cursed quietly, unable to get it on.

“Here, let me help” Arthur stood over and took the necklace from her cool hands. As he moved her raven hair from her neck, his fingers traced the bare skin of her back and over the scar. She tensed up when he did so, a small gasp escaping her unsuspecting mouth. “Sorry, cold hands” he stumbled over the barrier of words and placed the chain over her head, clasping it carefully behind her neck. Arthur silently wished he could stay like this all night, and Wynona did to.

From across the camp, Dutch watched the sweet interaction, trying to hide the proud smile that creeped onto his cheeks. “He’s really taken by her, eh?” Asked Molly from Dutch’s cot and he hummed. “I would be too if I was him”

“Should I be concerned?” Asked Dutch in response, making Molly giggle, planting a large kiss on his cheek.

“Never, my love” her Irish accent rung like a bell in his ears, beautiful and toned. Molly liked Wynona, both of the women being in similar situations. Once high society, and now outlaws. “She’s just a very beautiful lady, is all


	8. A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18

_The wind pushed her back, the flurry of snow beating her face with every flake that battered against her. Her hands guarded her face in an attempt to get through the blizzard, but was there even another side? Her feet slid underneath her, the parachute that was strapped to her back pulling her like a bungee cord. As her teeth gritted in an attempt to push through, the snow began to crumble like sand through hands, the cold ground she stood on falling into the vast nothingness below and soon Wynona did too. Her body fell like a snowflake through the abyss, slow and gentle like she wouldn't never hit the ground but her body began to speed up. Wynona began plummeting through the hair, her right hand extended into the sky towards the remnants of the snow she could see, but her hair began to smother her face, weeding its way into her mouth and eyes. The bottom of this mysterious cavern of darkness became visible, the harsh stone appeared to be her impending doom. An ear-piercing scream ripped through her throat, echoing back into her ears, there was no-one here to help her now. And that's when she hit the bottom, a crunch, and then a snap of bones breaking clean in two._

 

Wynona gasped loudly, her body jolting upwards away from the table she lay against and her hands gripping onto the damaged wood like her life depended on it. Terrified, she let out a yell. "Merde!" Those who sat around the table-Charles, Javier and Arthur-began to look at her like she had gone quite mad. Her breathing was deep as she tried to reassure herself, "Rêve, ce n'était qu'un rêve."

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, his voice concerned and his actions halted as he watched her stand up swiftly, ringing her hands together while her eyes darted from person to person. Her mind came to a stand-still, her knowledge of the English language leaving her brain in this instance of panic.

"Bien. Oui, je vais bien. Ne fais pas attention à moi." Wynona's eyebrows furrowed as the weight that pressed down on her chest began to lift, her face cooling down and her throat untightening. "Sorry. Bad dream. I'm quite alright" The group all looked at her silently but thankfully John approached them, something playing on his mind. Charles and Javier directed their attention towards Marston, whilst Arthur and Wynona remained focused on one another. He was concerned for her outburst, the fright that swam in her eyes like she had just seen a ghost worried him. John continued to explain how he had bumped into a man and a few of his friends about this area earlier on in the day, but none of them looked like they were from here. Wynona was too distracted to listen to what he had to say, but John sounded worried when he told them of the French they were speaking and the look they gave him as he rode past. That's when Jack approached Wynona, a hopeful look in his eye. "What's up, kid?" She asked him, finally drawing her eyes away from Arthur. 

"No-one wants to play tag with me" He whined like a dog, his expression sad and his tone high. "Can you?". Wynona and Arthur exchanged one final glance before she nodded, tucking her trousers into her brown, lace-up boots and counting for Jack to run away from her. She was involuntarily 'it'. As he ran, his youthful giggles grew further and further away, until they were out of earshot. She began to jog after him, her pace slow but enthusiastic. Her long legs took her to the other side of camp in a matter of seconds, dodging the camp-mates on her way. Jack squealed as she came bounding around the corner of Tilly's tent. Wynona laughed, letting Jack run away a little more before catching up with him again. They spent the next 10 minutes running circles around one another, both Jack and Wynona having equal chances to be the chaser. They were out of breath, but still laughing and giggling like there was no tomorrow. John and Abigail watched from across the camp, two small smiles plastered across both of their faces at the sight of Jack so happy. Wynona had never liked children very much, but for Jack she made an exception. 

"I'm coming for ya, kid" She growled behind her wagon, peering around the corner to see Jack stood still in his track's, waving his red flag at her like she was a bull, goading her on like a maniac. Wynona pounced from behind the wagon, Jack's playful squeal echoing throughout the camp. He began to run once again, his small legs carrying his tiny body slower than an adults walk, but she let him flee for a moment before running to him. She darted around the wagon, not seeing Arthur as he walked out in front of her, unsuspecting of her. She had no time to stop herself, and Arthur had no time to react accordingly. Wynona's face impacted his broad chest, her lipstick smudging on his white shirt. Arthur grabbed her shoulders to stop her from falling, but instead made her fall in a different sense. She looked up at him with a burning red face, feeling like her every action was under the watchful scrutiny of Arthur Morgan as he looked down on her with warm eyes.

"Watch where you're goin' next time" his hushed voice spoke down to her while he kept his large hands on her hunched shoulders. Wynona couldn't help but hum sheepishly in obedience, finding herself going from a swim in his lakey eyes, something she hadn't came to notice too much. There was a comfortable silence as they enjoyed each others close proximity, but both of them too timid and afraid to move. 

"Wynnie!" Jack's voice drew them both from their daydream. For the majority of the afternoon, Wynona and Jack played tag until finally, the celebrations began at nightfall. 

Sean stood on an old crate, a bottle of whisky secured in his right hand and a fistful of tipsy Irish pride in his other. Folk around the camp began sighing in dread at the very thought of a speech occurring. Others began to swarm around his like the midges that fluttered about the dimming sun like it was fruit.

“I know all you miserable bastards have missed me!” He Exclaimed, “Even you, Arthur Morgan.” Sean’s voice softened, “Sulky fucker. Anyways, tonight we celebrate! To Sean Maguire and his safe return!” Everybody cheered, more so glad that the drink was accessible and the speech was over. People cliqued up, and so the celebrations began.

Wynona gravitated towards the campfire left of Dutch’s tent with Charles and Javier, Arthur following close behind. Already around the fire was Sean with Mary-Beth sitting across him, across his lap. Uncle also sat near the fire, already half way through his bottle of alcohol.

“Here she is!” Sean greeted Wynona with enthusiasm opening his arms wider around Mary-Beth’s shoulders, “The woman who single handedly saved my life. A bloody miracle, she is” He announced to the entire group who took their seats around the campfire.

Wynona sat down beside Arthur, “it was my pleasure, Mister. Besides..if I didn’t, we wouldn’t have an excuse to drink” she joked, making a few members of the groups chuckle lightly.

“You say that now, woman, but in a couple months time, you will love me”. His enthusiasm and confidence charmed Wynona, it was such a different tone to the usual grumble about camp. Arthur’s posture changed when the last words left his mouth. He sat up straighter, his chest puffed out and his back arched. “Now, get a drink down ya’.” He thrust a bottle of unknown liquid towards her, and she gladly took it from his hands. She took a swig from it, letting it burn its way down her throat like a forest fire. Her face screwed up as she swallowed, not a fan of whatever was in the bottle.

“What the hell was that?” She cursed at him, handing it over to Arthur, who soon made the same expression. Like a pass the parcel game, it made its way around the group. “Are you trying to kill us or something?!” She Exclaimed, feeling it warm up her chest.

“That, dear, was Sean Macguire’s special brew” he stuck his own bottle up in the air, Mary-Beth giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Enough of that and you won’t even remember drinking it”. Javier held on to the bottle, taking sips from it every once in a while as people joked and laughed around the campfire. Arthur and Wynona sat close to one another, sharing hushed mumbles that substituted a real conversation.

“Don’t get too drunk tonight” Arthur nudged her shoulder, “I don’t want to be carrying you to bed”. His deep voice rumbled like an earthquake. Wynona got the feeling he was already a little bit tipsy.

Wynona leaned in, “I’m sure you would love that. Huh, Morgan?” She let the corner of her red-tinted lips curl up into a cheeky smirk. He chuckled under his breath, looking away from her legs and towards the campfire, awkwardly.

“I’m gettin’ the feeling it might be the other way around if I keep this up” he looked at the small around of booze sloshing around at the bottom of his green bottle before he threw it down his throat.

She hummed, “don’t worry, you’re in safe hands”. Their faces were inches away from each other, the smell of alcohol thick in the air, but those around them were watching. Too much pressure, thought Wynona. She could help but be attracted to Arthur, in fact she almost adored him. Much to say, the feeling was mutual. Wynona felt the drink in her head, the warm fuzzy feeling sending the ground spinning like a gramophone, slow and steady.

Arthur looked towards Javier for a moment, in tipsy thought. As he took a swig from his bottle, a small giggle came from his mouth. The giggle grew stronger, but was still well hidden underneath the endless chatter of the group of campmates.

“What are you laughing at?” Wynona smiled toothily at him, glancing at him with admiral curiosity written across her face. He leaned in closer, pointing over to Javier who played the guitar.

“I think Javier needs a better mirror” He tried to contain the fledged drunken laughterthat began to bubble over. “he always misses half his moustache”. Arthur couldn’t contain his amusement any longer. Wynona looked at him with a blank expression for just a moment, before bursting into shoulder-bouncing, breathless howls of laughter. To steady herself though her shaking shoulders, she placed a steady hand on Arthur’s leg. She gripped him tightly, the corner of her eyes crinkling whilst she looked up at him. Her face fell a little bit as she became even further taken with him, realising now that there was no getting out of this.

Arthur places his hand on her upper back, his fingers spanning almost shoulder to shoulder. They continued laughing until slowly it fizzled into small, sporadic snickers. But neither of them removed their grip from one another, instead, they stayed like that, Listening to the countless stories Uncle and Sean had to tell. Abigail watched from the other campfire, unable to contain the pleased smile that rose to her lips. Arthur continued to drink, but Wynona refused the bottle when it came her way once more, for one specific reason.

She wanted to remember this night

Between Arthur’s hiccuping, they managed to shimmy closer to one another, so their legs were now touching. He felt warmer than the campfire, reckoned Wynona. But perhaps that was just her burning face.

“Come on, Javier, play us a tune” Uncle prompted him into plucking the strings softly, a strong starting point for their sing-songs.

“When I was just a lad you know

i met a gal from ol’ Bordeaux 

She had blonde hair and blue eyes too, she let me ride on the ring-dang-doo.

 

The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?

It’s soft and round like a pussy cat

It’s got a whole in the middle and it’s split in two

That’s what you call the ring-dang-do”

 

Arthur sang along to the whole song, while Wynona only laughed, not knowing any of the words. She couldn’t quite believe the crudeness of these people. As they reached the end of the song, everybody grew more enthusiastic. They cheered and clapped, embracing the happiness for the time being.

“Hey, Wynona, weren’t you writing a song?” Asked Javier, referring to the only one that now resides on her table. She had put the other one in the fire when nobody was looking, embarrassed by her song writing capabilities.

Wynona looked around the group. “I’m afraid it’s all in my mother tongue. None of you would be able to understand a word” she said, letting her head fall a little.

“I think it would do some of us the world of good to hear a different dialect once in a while” Javier empathised with her, being a fellow who isn’t from America. “Especially Sean”. He held the guitar out in front of her, tempting her.

“Fine”, she rolled her eyes, giving into the pressure of the folk around the campfire. As she took the guitar, Arthur and Wynona finally took their hands from each other. Slowly and softly, she began plucking the strings to play a delicate melody. Everybody sat in pins, wanting to hear her serenading voice once and for all.

“Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien  
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal  
Tout ça m'est bien égal  
Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien  
C'est payé, balayé, oublié, je me fous du passé”

She began, her voice mousy and timid like a child. But it was sweet, and Arthur was obsessed. With a French accent made the men shift in their seats, Wynona continued to sing, shutting her eyes and getting swept away in the lyrics she was singing.

 

“Avec mes souvenirs j'ai allumé le feu  
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs  
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux  
Balayé les amours avec leurs trémolos  
Balayé pour toujours  
Je reparts à zéro”

The climax to the song came, Wynona’s voice growing a little more powerful. Every word she sang felt like a gut-punch but she liked it like that. It felt so foreign to her to feel something other than devastation in her life she had forgotten how to deal with it.

As she finished, they gave her a proud round of applause, Arthur put his hand on her knee, a gesture of ‘well done’

“Now sing us a song we can all sing!” Uncle prompted, and Wynona gladly followed. She thought of a song to sing, one that she knew.

“When I was just a little girl

I asked my mother ‘what will I be?’

Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?

Here’s what she said to me”

Wynona sang the first verse on her own, smiling at the words whilst she whistled the sweet tune. As the chorus came, everybody joined in.

“Que Sera, Sera

Whatever will be, will be

The futures not ours to see

Que Sera, Sera

What will be, will be”

The folks around the campfire all joined in, singing in unison and having a wonderful time. Some of them hooked arms with those beside them, some of them swayed to the music and some of them even drunk in time to the tune. But Arthur? Arthur looked at Wynona like she held the whole world in her hands.

“When I grew up, and fell in love

I asked my sweetheart ‘what lies ahead?’

Will we have rainbows day after day?

Here’s what my sweetheart said”

“Que Sera, sera

Whatever will be, will be

The futures not ours to see

Que Sera, Sera

What will be, will be”

Everyone cheered and clapped once more, smiles spread across truly happy faces. Even Charles’. He looked upon Arthur and Wynona, sat beside one another with grins plastered on their cheeks and swore to himself something that he had never swore to anybody else.

He would do anything for Wynona’s safety.

They made eye contact across the camp, a glint in her eye that confirmed his once subtle suspicions. She was so much more than anyone knew. With so much pain and anger flowing through her veins, she would give anything to make it stop. That’s why she was so brave. Because the risk didn’t matter to her. Whether she lived or die. None of it really mattered to her. Not now, anyway. It resulted in uncontainable anger, frustration and regret. Why couldn’t it have been me?

“I think I’m going to go get a drink” Wynona nodded towards Charles across the camp, and Arthur’s face fell a little, but he understood. As Wynona pushed off the log, she walked towards Dutch’s tent where Dutch and Molly danced outside to the gramophone. “See you in a bit”. They continued to sing around the campfire around her, but Charles watched her every move. Suddenly overwhelmed with her feelings. For everybody else’s sake, she decided to repress them with booze.

Another bottle down her throat and she was already beginning to forget the pain inside her chest. Her legs were like noodles underneath her, but the warmth that resonated inside her body more than made up for it. She regained her posture and traipsed around to where Dutch and Molly danced, her arms folded and her back leaning against the post that held the tent up. Wynona tapped her foot to the beat of the song they swayed too whilst the ground spun a little underneath her.

“I had a feelin’ I’d find you sulking around here” joked Arthur as he walked around the corner, slurring his words only slightly. He glanced towards Molly and Dutch, and then to the gramophone.

Wynona looked up towards Arthur with glazed eyes. “Dance with me”. Arthur looked away with a smile on his face, trying to hide the feeling that came along with her request.

“I’m afraid I ain’t much of a dancer” he tried to hide his hesitation, but Wynona was having none of it. She extended her hand, the heart that hammered inside her chest growing stronger with every second. Reluctantly, he took it, unable to refuse such an offer. The next song began, and Arthur stood in pins, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her.

“Even Arthur Morgan can’t resist a dance” she chuckled, her hand upon his shoulder and the other clasped in his rough yet somehow delicate hand. His other hand was secured around her waist.

“Well sometimes I like makin’ exceptions” he said as they swayed to the music, eye contact unable to be broken.

“Are they made very often?” Asked she.

“Never” Arthur answered before letting go of her waist and spinning her outwards, a small laugh escaping her mouth as he did so. All of her troubles momentarily disappearing. As she spun back in, they grew closer together, Wynona’s face only millimetres away from Arthur’s chest that rose and fell like a steam train engine, so quickly she was afraid of his heart beating out of his chest and hitting her in the face.

“What are you so afraid of?” She asked under her breath, letting Arthur spin her around once more before she resided in a closer position.

Arthur cleared his throat, “Making a god-awful fool of myself” he answered bravely. With a voice so hushed she could barely hear him. “And you?”

“Falling” she bluntly stately, looking into his eyes for one more second before the end of the song came and Arthur grabbed her back, tipping her backwards. He held her there for a second or two, so lost in her eyes that she was afraid she would be stuck like this forever. Finally, he pulled her up, an obligatory smirk stuck on his face like a broken record. Her rose perfume resonated between the two of them, musky and sweet and most likely expensive.

”I should get some rest. Goodnight, Arthur” Wynona smiled, letting go of his hand and watching it fall down to his side. 


	9. A shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19

Wynona woke up in the morning, her eyelids heavy and almost unliftable. The morning was chilly, dewdrops residing on the short grass beneath them and Wynona had to pull her coat on as soon as she stretched. She loved this time of the morning, when todays weather hadn't been given enough time to make up it's mind on what it wanted to be. Her coat kept her warm for now, however, dark burgundy and lined on the inside. Her hair cascaded down her back, keeping at least that part of her somewhat warm. Only half of the camp was awake, but they didn’t look it. Dark, sunken eyes were drilled into cups of coffee and bowls of oats in an attempt to get over the nausea that plagued them. They looked like the undead.

“Ugh” Wynona groaned, putting her hand to her head, thankfully she didn’t drink too much last night. She checked the time, and then looked over to Arthur’s wagon. The cot was empty. She wondered where he could be at this time, and almost became worried had it not been for Abigail Roberts, her knight in shining armour.

“Don’t worry, he’s just took Jack fishing” Abigail wandered over, a cup of coffee secured in her hand and a warm smile shining on her glowing skin. “Coffee?” She thrust the cup towards her, tempting her. Coffee seemed to make her jittery, but at least it woke her up. Sleepless nights had became part of Wynona's routine after the incident. Each night she was afraid of going to sleep in fear of seeing the same picture she saw every single night. And so she dealt with the dark skin around her eyes until she could feel so little she would forget about the image of her father's death.

“Yes, thanks” she smiled, taking the steaming cup from her hands. “How are you today?” asked Wynona, her eyes deep in the bottom of the cup as Abigail looked off into the distance, her eyes tired and her lips carved into a downward frown. She was strong, that LaDue knew for certain.

“I’m good.” She said, “Tired, is all. I didn’t get to sleep till late last night”. Wynona laughed lightly in response, taking small sips of sweet coffee. “And John, he just infuriates me sometimes” Her tight woven tongue finally came loose, she looked towards the ground with a hint of resentment in her eyes. Abigail loved John truly, ruthlessly, and furiously but that didn't stop him from being hopeless. 

“How so?” Prompted Wynona, making her sit at the end of her bed where her feet where with her knees still held up to her chest as she drank the final dregs of coffee. It was never a drink her parents allowed her to have, and so she savoured it now. But she felt guilt for going against their words when they were both dead.

“He is such a useless father. He never does anything with Jack and I’m afraid the boy’s gonna grow up without a daddy” she explained, “John..he disappeared on us for a year, maybe more, when Jack was just young and nothing was quite the same after that”

Wynona reflected for a moment. “I can’t say I know much about love, Abigail." she chuckled a little. The last time she loved a man was before she had a 5,000 dollar bounty placed on her head. And he was the reason it was put there. "But, the fact that you are still with him is very telling”

“I guess you’re right” she sulked, “I just wish he was more considerate, you know?” Her eyebrows furrowed in the centre, and Wynona was sure she could see a permanent wrinkle in her pale skin from frowning so often. 

“I understand. Some men simply aren’t father-material.” Wynona explained to her, “John’s not as dull and dense as that. Give it time, he will warm up to him”

“So what about you and Arthur?” Abigail asked, not able to hold her tongue on the matter for much longer. The telling smirk that rose to her cheeks told her everything she needed to know. “Come on. You’re secret is safe with me” Abigail nudged her shoulder, making a small laugh fall from her lips.

Wynona gave in, wanting someone to talk to about what had been playing on her mind. “He is a good man” she stated, “But I have been hurt too much to be hurt once more”

“That’s your problem” she claimed, “you are going into this expecting to be hurt. Arthur would never hurt you. As you said, he’s a good man”

Wynona sighed, “I really ain’t the romantic type, I’m afraid” she looked towards the ground, trying to hide the redness that burned the tips of her ears.

“Wynona, you and Arthur have something. It’s so painfully obvious. Don’t let that go to waste” her voice sounded like she was pleading with Wynona, which made her laugh. “You know, falling ain’t that bad if there’s someone there to catch you”.

Abigail’s cheesy quote made Wynona howl with laughter. “Where did you get that one?” She clutched her sides as they began to ache, “that was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard and I’m French”. Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle at her amusement. Tears prickled in her eyes from the cackles that left her mouth.

“Shut up!” She punched her shoulder, suddenly embarrassed of her words. “You know what I mean”

Wynona breathed deeply to contain her burst of laughter, the tears spouting from her eyes like a leaky pipe. “I do. And you are right”

The attention was drew from the conversation when Arthur rode into camp, Jack sitting on the front of saddle in his big arms. But there was something on his mind. She found herself being able to tell when he was thinking about something rigorously because he tended to scratch his chin and knit his eyebrows together. Occasionally, he would look past her and into the distance.

“My boy!” Exclaimed Abigail as she greeted her son with a tight hug. She gasped as Jack held up a dainty necklace made from small red flowers. “How pretty! I am so lucky” she beamed. Wynona approached Dutch’s tent where Arthur has disappeared into.

“They know we’re here” he claimed, worry thick in his deep voice. Wynona could hear them from where she stood, trying to look occupied as to not seem nosy. But she deserved to know what had Morgan so worked up. 

“Who do?” Dutch furrowed his eyebrows, laying his book down flat on his table, not realising the harshness of the matter they were now in. The law knew where they were near, and all because of a train robbery that happened before Wynona even got here. It was weeks ago. 

“The law. When I was out two men came up to us. Agent Milton and...” he trailed off, “and...I can’t remember the other one”. Wynona could hear the worry in his voice and it hurt her a little, for she knew there was nothing she could do to help it.

“Ross” Dutch interjected. “Agent Milton and Agent Ross”. He already knew who they were. “Where you followed back here?” He stood up and asked, accusingly. Arthur put his hands up innocently, swearing that they didn't. 

“No. No. They know we are near here” he insisted as Dutch walked out to the grass of the burnt out campfire where Wynona stood nearby. “They offered me my freedom if I turned you in”

“And did you?”

“Very funny” Arthur remarked, “So what do we do?”

Dutch thought momentarily, rubbing his moustache, stressed. “I say we do nothing. Not now. They are just trying to scare us into doing something”

“You better be right” mused Arthur, pacing in circles without noticing Wynona’s presence. She could tell it stressed him, but with her being new to the gang, there was absolutely nothing she could do. Arthur hooked his fingers on his belt and stood, looking out at the sun, a pose that made Wynona’s stomach lurch violently to the floor.

She decided that she wanted to go out for a ride, or maybe to gather some food, but she was yet to decide. Alone wasn’t her preferred status, so she approached Charles.

“Are you busy?” Asked she, watching as he carved into his bow. He looked up at her with surprise.

“Am I ever?” He chuckled a little bit, shedding light on their dark situation. “Why, what do you need?” 

“I was just wondering if you want to go hunting?” Wynona admired Charles. He was a kind and loyal man, who sat in a similar boat. A person with two very different parents who just want to be accepted.

“Why not ask Arthur?” He asked sincerely, but there was a hint of mischief in the melting-pot of tones. They both looked over to him near a big tree on the far side of camp. He was in rigorous conversation with John Marston over a map.

“He seems to be a bit preoccupied. Anyway, we haven’t got much time to talk” she looked away from Morgan finally, back towards the man who sat below her.

He shrugged his shoulders, “why not?” As they stood, Arthur saw them leave camp together and couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of sadness in his chest. And how he resented it. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you ask me?” 

They rode out of camp, through the trees and onto the dirt track that was surrounded by vast fields and a far off cliff. Apollo was bigger than Charles’ horse. And everybody else’s horses.

“Well, Charles, it seems the two of us come from similar backgrounds.” She explained, slowing Apollo down to no more than a slow gallop, “Two very different parents, I mean”

“A black man and Indian. I’m proud of my roots” he asserted, not to get off on the wrong track. “Your parents were?...”

“I’m surprised you can’t guess” Wynona laughed, “My mother was a Jew, my father was Romani. Both born in Notre-Dame”. Wynona wasn't ashamed of who she was, in fact it was very much the opposite. However she knew the stigma around gypsies and the weight the word carried. She hated it. The Jews were all seen as greedy and conniving people who wanted nothing more than to own everything, to the American's anyway. 

Charles hummed, “Aren’t French Jews and French Romani meant to be pretty much extinct?” He asked, walking on eggshells as to not offend her. But Wynona wasn't easily offended, in fact she was able to give out what she got, but with her father recently having died, and no one seeing Wynona grieve everybody was afraid to start off what could possibly be her demise.

“What? Like the dinosaurs?” They shared a quick chuckle, “But yes, there isn’t very many of us left. In America they are a myth” She explained, 

“I’d be glad. Folks around these parts kill anything that isn’t white and Christian” he explained, thinking of the hardships he had faced as a young child.

Wynona cleared her throat, “admittedly, my father became a banker after his Wild West days, when I was a kid, but I think the bank were too afraid to turn him down”

“I think I met your father once. Quite a long time ago now.” He smiled at the memory, one that he hadn’t shared with anyone else.

Wynona frowned a little, “yeah? Where?”

“I was getting beat up in an alley near Blackwater by a couple of racists. I was only a teenager. Next thing I see is this scary lookin’ man and I think that was me, dead. But instead, he pulls these two men off of me and gives them such a punch I never saw either of them again...he was a good man”

The grip on Apollo’s reigns tightened, “You knew him to be a good man. The real Amos...well, he had to fight to keep us safe. And it wasn’t pretty. He killed more men in 6 years than both of us have in our lives combined.” Wynona swallowed harshly, trying to force the lump she had in her throat down. “He was loyal, and understanding, but no man crossed him and lived to tell the tale”

“Either way, no one deserves to die” Charles noted as they reached their destination, the same plain Arthur and her had came to only days prior. Before the forest. “I hope you heal” he looked at her glistening eyes and felt a deep pity in his chest for her. For she was younger than most people in camp, but had to carry more on her shoulders. Life could be so unfair.

Her throat was tight, and in a final attempt to save her awkward choke, she said, “So do I”. The tears in her eyes threatened to spill, but she wouldn’t dare cry in front of Charles. Whilst she admired him and his vulnerability, Wynona saw crying as being weak and her mother only reinforced that point from a young age and so the sentiment was ingrained in her brain.

“You can’t heal without letting yourself hurt” he explained, and in an instant it had changed her point of view, Wynona had been so focused on stopping herself from hurting that she hadn't had any time to recuperate and focus on other things. But instead of acknowledging it, she pointed to the deer at the rim of the trees facing them. “You take it. I want to see if the rumours are true”

“The rumours?” She asked, drawing the string back to beside her face like she had done with Arthur. Using a bow was something Wynona had mastered when her father would teach her to fight and hunt on his days off from the bank. But her mother was strictly not to know for it was terribly unladylike to know how to defend yourself and survive.

“That you are the best shot in the west”

“I wouldn’t say that’s quite true” she humbly denied before whistling loudly for the deer to raise its head. The second it did so, she sent the arrow impaling through it’s eye, killing it instantly. All from 200 metres away. Charles looked at her with narrowed eyes, disapproving in her naive humbleness. “After you” she prompted. Charles drew his string. “Pull the string right back.”

“Sorry?”

“You might reach the deer, but you won’t kill it instantly. Pull it back until your middle finger touches your cheekbone” she advised him, and right enough, the arrow provided meat for the gang for at least a couple of night.

After skinning the two animals and stowing them on their horses, Charles decided to show her the Bison. A sacred animal amongst the Indians. They were on the opposite side of camp, and so they had to ride for 20 minutes before they reached their destination.

A large herd of massive creatures lay on their sides, resting in the hot summer sun. Wynona had always been afraid of bison, even as a little girl. Charles enjoyed being around them, he grew more confident knowing a lot of his people worshipped these creatures. "Look at them all, incredible, aren't they?" But then something caught his eye in the distance. A bison that refused to move. But as they got closer and closer, they saw that it couldn’t move. Because it was dead. The scavenger birds flew away from the carcass as they neared closer on their horses and she instantly knew it wasn't good. “No, look, shot and left for dead it looks like. This wasn’t hunting to survive” Charles voice got darker suddenly, looking down at the rotting carcass of a bison. Not skinned, nothing. “This was hunting for sport”. They continued up the track, looking for evidence as to who might have done such a thing. But Wynona wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to see what Charles did when they did find them.The bison rose to their feet and fled in hoards as they rode through them peacefully. They were beautiful animals, unfortunately beautiful that is. "Let's follow the track, see if we can find who did this".

Wynona followed Charles up the beaten dirt track, not being so great at track-finding herself and after about 5 minutes, unfortunately came across another dead bison on the hill, this one in the same state as the last, only a little fresher. “Charles, look” she pointed off the right of the bison. "An abandoned camp. I'll go check it out". She approached the camp, and noticed that the campfire hadn't been long out. Meaning they moved from here not too long ago. Last night perhaps. There were two sleeping backs and a thin layer of clothes around them, meaning they may have left in a hurry. The tent had quickly been tore down two, shreds of white fabric still stuck on the large stick that was impacted in the dry dirt. As she kicked the crumbling charcoal from her boot, Charles began finding the trail to see what direction they had fled in. "The logs haven't gone cold yet, maybe have a day since they left" She noted, mounting Apollo once more.

"The bison's been dead about the same amount of time" He explained, "We should get up higher, see if we can see anything" He advised and so off they went, tracking slowly up the relatively steep hill with their eyes peeled in case any of them spotted anything. Charles had went quiet, offended at the unknown trophy hunters actions. Then again, Wynona would have been too if they were a sacred animal amongst her people. She fiddled with her second necklace, the star of David that sat around her neck and had done for years. They reached the top and were looking out upon vast plains of grass and trees, a water mill in the distance. The mountains carved their way into the skyline, surrounded by clouds and rimmed by trees. Wynona could spend all day looking at the view. "Do you see anything?" Wynona could only see the bright sun that ached the back of her eye-sockets, but Charles was quick to discover the smoke. "Wynona, look. Smoke to the north. That could be another camp".

"Let's go check it out" She said, but was filled with internal dread at the many things that could happen when they found the suspects. They rode towards the smoke, being careful to look out for any more bison carcasses or scavenger birds that were fleeing the scene of the crime. Apollo's hooves made the ground shake, so they could likely hear them coming from a mile away but they continued with Charles desperate to teach them a lesson or two.

"Bastards. Just killing for fun" He mumbled angrily, riding a foot or two in front of Wynona. She asked him if they thought they could talk, and Charles then replied, "I don't kill for fun. I kill when i need to". They rode in silence for a minute or two, every passing gallop growing closer to the billowing smoke that came from a ridge overlooking the main dirt track. As they continued, more carcasses found their way on to the field, but this time it wasn't one or two. It was half a dozen bison strewn across the field. "Look, more dead bison!" Charles became more infuriated by the second. "It has to be them. Come on!". He began to sprint on his horse, gaining some ground between Wynona and himself. 

"Wait up!"

 

They reached the ridge within seconds and Charles had already jumped from his horse before he had even got a chance to stop. Wynona jogged to him to catch up as he marched up the small grass hill towards the suspected killers. She trailed behind, whilst Charles had already begun his inquisition to find the guilty. "Did you fools shoot those bison?" He asked, surprisingly calm.

"What's your problem?" One of them ask, and Wynona found herself by Charles' side finally. They both sat cross-legged in a messy camp filled with booze bottles and dirty clothing, food strewn from corner to corner of their tent. They looked up at him with a sneer on their face, currently not caring for the repercussions they had no idea was about to come to them.

"I said, did you fools shoot those bison?" Charles asked once more, becoming more and more impatient with them by the passing second. This is when one of them stands up, a violent look in his eye.

"Calm down, you black or red bastard, whatever the fuck you are" He spat, making Wynona blood boil inside her, but she kept her cool. Charles had had enough of the senseless questioning. The other man now stood up, taking a step towards Charles who didn't seem phased by the comment itself.

Charles lost his temper, "Did you shoot them?!" He screamed, making Wynona flinch a little. She had never known Smith to be a man of short-temper, and had surely never heard him shout, but this situation had her in pins. She trusted Charles instincts, but she had yet to learn to trust her own. It grew tense in the camp, the sharp air stinging in Wynona's throat. 

"Yes, we did. We shot those bison and we'll shoot you too if you don't get" The man threatened, feeling brave all of a sudden. Such a grave mistake. "What business is it of yours what we-.." He began to talk more rationally now, but Charles had already reached the end of his tether. He pulled his gun from his holster like lightening, sending an echoing bullet into the chest of the man who then continued to fall backwards like a ragdoll, blood squirting onto the white tent behind him. Wynona flinched once more, the gunshot giving her a sudden fright for it was so unlike Charles to act out on a limb. The other man also fell to the ground, but remained woundless for the time being. 

"It's that business of mine!" Charles shouted again, leaning forward on his feet and showing no restraint in his words. 

"Good god, you're crazy!" the current survivor wailed, his hand instinctively covering his face from any harm. Like his hand would stop the bullet from entering his head. He changed his tune, "look, i got a family...a family. Don't shoot me" He pleaded, and suddenly Wynona wanted this all to be over. She wanted to set the man free from Charles frightening stare and let him be with his family, to saviour the time he has left. Wynona didn't want him to die, and so she took matters into her own hands, literally. She gathered her guts and marched over to him, grabbing him tightly by the throat. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Wynona delivered one swift punch to the side of his face, "Why the hell are you out here shooting those bison and leaving them to rot?!" She asked loudly, hoping to god he would speak up before Charles killed him. 

"I don't know what you're talking about". Wynona sighed deeply, wanting to scream at him 'Just tell me the truth! The truth matters more than your death!'. But she refrained, not wanting to seem emotional over a man she had never met and who had committed terrible deeds.

"Goddamit, tell us or you're dead" She raised her voice, sending two quick, smaller blows to his face, trying to instil the message into him by force rather than words. 

"To make it look like it was Indians" He finally broke, but Charles prompting to kill him from the sidelines distracted her. "No! No, please don't kill me! i'm begging you!" He pleaded so desperately it felt like he had just carved a knife straight through her chest and into her heart. She stood still for a moment in the tense silence of the camp and made up her mind painfully. Wynona let go of the white shirt collar that was bundled up in her fist, letting him scramble for his life. "Please...Don't shoot me. I have a family" He gripped her jaw, in clear pain.

"Then run" Wynona said deeply, unable to be intimidating any longer, the facade had grown tiring. 

" _Why did you do that_?" Asked Charles with disappointment so ridden in his tone that she began to wish she had never asked him to join her after all. He waited on her answer expectantly, but the only one he received was a lie.

"He didn't need to die. Maybe he can run along and tell his poacher friends what happen to them" She explained, finally turning to face his disappointed expression. Charles shook his head at her, his long fair moving with his movement of disapproval. 

"I've seen enough of this. I'm heading back to camp"

Wynona was left alone with her rampant thoughts, searching the camp for anything that could be of use to her before approaching Apollo and climbing aboard before seeing the man run away in the distance. Which is when she had an idea. She rode towards him as he bolted in any direction he possibly could, lonely and obviously scared to his bones. As she did so, he turned his head and instantly began screaming for his life. Wynona tried to wave to him, to tell him she wasn't going to hurt him, but he didn't get the hint.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" She exclaimed, watching as he continued to run tiredly towards the vast plains of nothingness. "Wait, mister. Please" She pleaded with him, which is when he fell to the ground like a toddler and cowered within himself, curled up into a little ball.

"Please. Please don't shoot me, lady. I'm sorry. I really am!" He cried, desperate for his life. But Wynona just sat on Apollo with a look of disdain upon her face. He finally stopped wailing and crying, and began to breathe and think rationally. He peeked up at her through his hands. "So you really ain't going to hurt me?" He asked sceptically.

"No. Now, tell me your name" She ordered, watching him stand up slowly and wearily, looking around for Charles in the far-off distance, thinking they had payed some sick joke on him where they pretended to let him go only to kill him. He looked up at her like she held the entire world in her hands.

"Mathews." He cleared his throat, "Jack Mathews"

"Okay, Jack. Where do you stay?" She continued to quiz him on his life, much to the suspicious emotion  on his face. "Unless you want me to leave you here to starve to death or get eaten by panthers" Wynona also offered, growing impatient of his weary nature.

"Oh...Uh, i live at Emerald Ranch. A place just south of here" He explained, nervously, wringing his hands. Wynona stuck her hand down towards him, a help for him to climb upon Apollo. Jack gladly obliged, struggling to board Apollo like he was some massive beast. "Why are you helping me, miss?" He asked.

Wynona thought for a minute, "Not because i care about you, but because I care for your family" She told him bluntly, beginning to ride towards the vague direction of Emerald Ranch. She had only heard Hosea Mathews talking about it Arthur all of once. "Loss is a plague and killers are merely the rats. Carrying it from person to person mercilessly. No one shall cross me, but i am no killer, Mr. Mathews". After a generally silent ride, they arrived in Emerald Ranch, Jack Mathews doing little less than falling from her horse, stumbling to his feet desperately and fumbling around in his pockets for something to give her. "I don't want your money. Go and take care of your family" She nodded to the small figures of children who stood at the window, excited for their fathers return. He gave her a wide smile. 

"You're a good woman, Miss"

***

 

 

 

Wynona returned to camp, emotionally exhausted and not in the mood to talk to a soul. Not even Arthur who greeted her as she walked towards her cot by approaching her kindly. His face soon fell when she barely nodded in his direction. By the time she got back to camp, the sun had set in the sky and the moon was already out. Late enough to call it a night but too early for it to be inconspicuous.   

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter this time guys, but the next ones start to pick the story up a bit


	10. A curious mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30

"Why isn't Wynona getting out of bed, uncle Arthur?" Asked young Jack, now having nobody to play tag with. Arthur looked at Wynona who lay on her back, staring up at the blue sky with such an emotionless face she looked dead. One of her arms stuck behind her head, the other laying limply down by her bedside. She had been that way for hours, and some of the campmates where starting to grow concerned. Dutch especially. Arthur knelt down so he was heights with the young boy.

"Sometimes, when somebody is upset, they don't want to do anything" He nodded towards him, doing the top button of his coat so he wouldn't get chilly as the sun set. "She'll be fine soon. You don't have to worry" Arthur tried his best to muster a smile from the fragments of memories he had left.

Jack only looked at him for a moment, trying to understand Arthur's difficult words. When he thought he understood, he walked off to find Abigail. But as Jack walked away, Dutch approached him. "Is she okay?" he asked, the most concerned he had heard Dutch in quite some time.

"How am i meant to know?"

Dutch shrugged, "You two are, you know, pally". They both looked over at her for a moment or two, watching her cross and uncross her legs restlessly, unable to get into a comfortable position. All she was dressed in was her tan trousers that rose high above her hips and flared out at the bottom like a bell and her white vest that she tucked into her trousers. "Maybe you should go and talk to her" He suggested, knowing it was coming sooner or later. Arthur shrugged, not seeing the worse that could have happened. "You might be able to cheer her up, anyway." 

Arthur traipsed over slowly, not wanting to startle like her like she was a crow or a small rodent. As he reached her tent, she did little to acknowledge him, only flickering her eyes to him once before letting her chest fall, exhaling deeply. He just stood there for a moment or two, looking at her melancholy expression. He shuffled towards the barrels beside her bed that held the fabric over her head and leaned his backside on them, crossing his ankles and folding his arms. He watched her jaw clench at his presence. "What's wrong?

She sighed, letting her eyes ponder their way over to him and flutter shut a handful of times. Arthur thought he saw a glimmer of a smile pass her lips but it was gone as fast. "Just tired" Her voice was soft and exhausted, but emotionally. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows down at her.

"Then why ain't you sleeping?" He asked, but received no answer. Instead, she sat up, looking around the camp and watching everybody get on with their lives. Filled with a flurry emotions after today's trip. Wynona's hair fell from her back to in front of her shoulders, showing the scar that never failed to spark Arthur's curiosity. Her hand snatched the shirt that lay at the bottom of her bed. She pulled it on lazily and the reached for her boots. "Where are you going?"

"I thought we could go for a ride" Her tired voice droned, "Get out of here for a bit. If you wouldn't mind, that is. I want to show you something" She glanced up at him whilst tucking her trousers into her boots. He nodded, thinking getting out of camp could do him the world of good. Arthur matched her slow pace over to the horses, nobody saying a word until they had broke through the trees, the hooves beating the ground harshly being the only thing to fill the silence. Wynona stayed a few feet in front of him for quite some time, leading the way to whatever it was she wanted to show him.

They ran through plains, the wind blowing her hair back like the mane of her own horse. Wynona stood up in the stirrups, letting her body move up and down at Apollo's fastest pace, one that Arthur's horse began struggling to keep up with. She slowed to a stop when they reached a thin off-road path that the horses wouldn't be able to scale. Arthur noticed that it led to the top of a cliff, a large tree sitting directly in the centre, like some sort of painting. It was high up, something Arthur wasn't too keen on. But Wynona appeared to have been here before, watching exactly where she stepped. "Watch your footing, its a big drop down". She was right, it was a large drop down into crowds of trees that would put you in bedrest for weeks, something neither of them could exactly afford to be doing. As they worked their way up Wynona didn't dare look down, Arthur on the other hand couldn't help but watch as they ground below got further and further away.

"Is it much longer?" Asked Arthur, wishing he could be off of the side of this cliff already.

"No. Don't tell me you're afraid of a fall?" She mocked him from in front. But Arthur knew it wasn't just a fall at this point. It was sharp rocks from here on out, and falling into them would mean death. Arthur clung on to the crumbling wall, alerted at how weak the ground around them seemed to be. "I would ride from Saint Denis just to come here. I was going to buy this land and build a house" She explained, pausing for a second as they came to a dead end. "But the ground isn't stable".

"Where do we go now?" He asked, suddenly confused at where Wynona had just led them. But she tested the ledge above them by pulling down on it harshly. To Arthur is seemed like a lot of hassle to get somewhere. But it was out the way, at least. Wynona jumped up, using her forearms to pull her body-weight up the maroon ledge. As she brushed her trousers off, she looked down at Arthur who stood still, afraid to fall from such a great height. She got onto her knees and crossed her hands by the wrists, extending them out to him to grab, which he reluctantly did. She leaned back, grunting in an attempt to pull the burly man up the ledge. But they got there at last. Arthur climbed to his feet, surprised at Wynona's strength. As Arthur turned around, he was mindblown at the view he got. His mouth was cracked agape, and Wynona couldn't help but stare at his expression. 

"It's peaceful here. Like it's inside it's own little word, separate from all that horror down there" She mused, seemingly talking to nobody in particular whilst walking towards the singular tree that sprouted monumentally from the dry dirt like a commemorative statue. Leaves cast an uneven shadow around the base of the tree, while the bright sun that burst out one final time before letting the moon take over cast an orange glow across the land. " I'd like to be buried here" She noted, in case the day ever came where Arthur might need to do something like that. But he prayed he wouldn't. She turned her head back to look at him, unaware of the camera that was fixed on her. A small blush rose to her face, and a similar one to a mortified Arthur. He took the picture regardless, not wanting to waste such an amazing opportunity. "Sorry, i can move" She stumbled over her words, but Arthur raised his hand, looking through the lens of the box camera that he held awkwardly in his large hands. He made a mental note to go and get it developed the next chance he got. "Don't you like it?" She asked, beckoning him to her side. 

"t's...It's" He stuttered, "Beautiful". Their eyes met, her's illuminated by the sunlight that set beside him. Arthur couldn't help but listen to his heart thud in his ears, the blood rushing around his body sounding like crashing waves at a beach. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and when she laughed, it made him realise that her beauty was the least of her. No lush plains nor rocketing mountains, green forests nor fluffy clouds could outshine her, no sun could make him feel dizzy like Wynona LaDue did.

"I think the moon is much more poetic" She admitted, knowing full well it wasn't the moon itself she referred to, but rather the man who stood beside her staring out at the sun. "It is, after all, what lets the sun shine. If only it knew how appreciated it truly was". Admittedly, Arthur had never been a great poet, and god knows he had tried, but the words never rolled from his tongue like they did with Wynona. "The wolves howl assurance at the moon, but he never seems to listen". There were minutes of silence, the two of them standing on the edge of the cliff, the tree behind them, and stared out at the setting sun. Arthur let his hand fall, not realising Wynona had done the same minutes earlier. Instead of flinching away when their hands met, Wynona hooked her pinky around his, letting their fingers weaving in and out of each other. Arthur's hands, they were rough, manly, and considerably nervous. But the silence gave Wynona a chance to fall victim to her very own thoughts. "I'm afraid...Arthur" Her voice wavered, finally letting her emotions bubble over.  A frown was fixed on her face. "They got my daddy, and now, they are going to get me" She mused, glancing back out at the setting sun. 

"We won't let them. Dutch will fight tooth and nail for your safety, i assure it" Arthur tried to reassure her, but his smooth voice did little to calm her shaking tone. "I will too" He added, a warm smile rising to his lips. Wynona met his gaze, trying to hold back a grin in her trying time. His eyes crinkled, crows feet forming in his glistening skin. Wynona swore to herself from that moment on that no harm shall ever come his way, not under her watch. 

"We hate to walk-in on a moment" An irish voice spoke from behind them, making Arthur and Wynona turn around quickly with surprise. Before them stood three men, two of them with guns fixed on Arthur's head. "But we hear this one here has a hefty price on her head" The lead of the group waved towards Wynona, who swiftly unhooked her hand from Arthur's. "Apparently they pay more for _gypo's_ " He spat in her direction, making her clutch her fist with anger. Arthur saw something brew in her eyes, but she didn't flinch from the word the way she once did. Instead, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and began to stare them down.

"A little birdy told me they pay a fair amount for dirty O'Driscolls, too." She hissed, taking a brave step towards them, "But i think I'd stick one of your heads on a totem. Let your degenerate friends know i'm not to be messed with". Arthur was surprised at her steely tone and gut-punching slander. "So you can either chose to leave now, or your bodies will be rotting around the back of Valentine sheriff's office come tomorrow" Wynona cursed at them, threatening them with a hovering hand around the the holster of her gun. The O'Driscoll's began eyeing up Arthur like vultures, sniffing him out like cadaver dogs, trained to pick out vulnerable meat. Arthur and Wynona formed a dangerous duo, unbeknown to anybody on the cliff. 

"Mr. Morgan has a decent price on him too, don't forget. Take your pick, _Wynona_. You or him" He said, calmly, waving the gun at his head. Morgan began to raise his hands in anticipation of what was to come, not wanting to get two bullets straight to the head. Wynona smirked, keeping her head. A plan unfolded in her head, and she revelled at the idea. The men hated that she grinned cynically in their faces, the idea of a women being a fair match for three burly men making them quiver in fragile masculinity. "Would Arthur Morgan take a bullet for his damsel in distress?" They sneered.

"I am many things, my friend, but a damsel in distress is not one of them" She hissed and in a blink-of-an-eye she had grabbed two throwing knifes from her belt. They spun in the air as she threw them, the whistling in the wind being a stark reminder not to mess with a Van Der Linde. They impaled into the throats of two O'Driscolls. They both gagged for the sweet air they now craved and fell to the ground, blood pissing from between their clutching fingers at their necks. The final O'Driscoll, however, met a more humiliating fate. Wynona lunged at him, fixing the palm of her hand over the barrel of his pistol and listened to the gun jam as he pulled the trigger, pure panic flashing across his fleeting eyes. She pulled his arm out straight and send her fist into the underside of his elbow, snapping the bone in two. A wailing scream left his mouth as the bone projected through the skin of his forearm. Pure fury clouded her rational thinking, blinding her in the bliss of anger. But as Arthur watched on, he saw how violent she became, this was the Wynona he knew. 

"You stupid bitch!" He screamed in unbearable pain, "You don't belong in this country!" The man yelled once more, making Wynona take a step back and listen to his seething words. "All your people are nothing but thieving, greedy bastard. We will wipe you out, and we started with your gypo father" 

Arthur flinched at the words he spoke towards his friend, knowing he had just planted the seed for a painful demise. Wynona's upper lip twitched, her blood going cold. Her hands began to quiver, unable to contain her anger any longer. Wynona grabbed her knife from her holster, jumping at the man and sending it into his shoulder, making him stumble backward. She send a right hook into his temple, he fell back like a domino. Wynona climbed on top of him, screaming the words over and over again that they began to lose meaning. "Who killed my father?!" She would hiss in pure agony, her gritted teeth making the birds flee their nests in fear of what was to come, and so they should have. "Tell me and i can make this painless!" Wynona yelled in his face once more, but the man only smiled at her desperate attempts to get an answer from him.

"It's already begun" He chuckled manically, " _You can't stop what's coming_ ". Arthur's blood ran cold. They were already after her.

The man took a swim in the abyss that began to form in Wynona's eyes like a storm overhead, one that he couldn't escape from. Her hand slammed down into his chest, the knife wrapped in her palm as the first wound proved fatal to the O'Driscoll immediately, straight through his heart. She watched his life leave his eyes, but something urged her not to stop until she had released every ounce of anger that was pent up inside of her. Wynona screamed loudly, making holes in his body like he was but a piece of paper and her a shotgun slug. So violently did she let herself come loose, unravelling from the tight coil of anger that had wound itself around her heart until all that was left was bitter sadness and guilt. Over and over again she got the pleasure out of watching the life leave his body. Blood sprayed onto her white shirt and face with every blow, it's warm feeling finally going cold over her skin as he lay lifeless underneath her. As she became more tired, small grunts became louder, pain leaking through her tear ducts. Her hands shook, her shoulders too, but she continued to release her anger. Finally, as she was caked in the mans blood, Arthur decided enough was enough. 

"Come on. He's dead" He spoke, grabbing her shoulders. But Wynona shook him off, standing up slowly and seeing the blood on her face in the reflection of Arthur's eyes. It was nothing he hadn't seen before. But the pure thirst for revenge was something he hadn't seen so concentrated in somebodies eyes. She put the knife back in her belt, watching as the blood dripped from it's tip. There was something so bittersweet about watching Wynona release her anger, for all that was left was the sadness. And lust for revenge. 

"I am done sitting by and watching this all unravel. I will find out who done this, Arthur. And when i do, I will make them regret taking anything from me" She pushed her gun back into her holster, the blood of the enemy drying into her clothes like red wine on a sundress. Wynona brought her hair to one side of her shoulder, braiding it messily before securing it. Arthur's hat lay on the ground, knocked off his head in all of the chaos and so he picked it up, dusting it off, before realising Wynona didn't bring hers. He grabbed her bloodied shoulder in the last ray of light from the setting sun and pulled her closer, placing his hat on her head. She grinned, unable to ignore the giddy feeling Wynona got in her gut from wearing his hat. "We should go back to camp" She noted. 

"I think you need to clean off a bit" Arthur looked her up and down only once, making Wynona shift on her feet awkwardly, suddenly feeling insecure. "There's a lake not too far from here" He claimed, "The people at camp might worry"

They made their way down to the horses that stood grazing the lush green grass at the bottom of the cliff, content enough. Wynona climbed onto Apollo, Arthur onto his own steed, and he began to lead the way towards the apparent lake. They rode slowly, the moon beginning to rise in front of them, shining a white light through the trees and casting oblong shadows across the dirt track they trailed along. There was some sort of tension in the air, Wynona breathed it in, and Arthur exuded it. She looked over at him, one of his hands down by his side and the other on the reigns. His hips swayed as the horse moved up and down underneath him and her breath couldn't help but hitch in her throat. Wynona clenched her jaw and glanced away, trying to distract from her spinning mind. A fool is what she felt like, utterly taken by a man she had known for a month.

"You never did tell me why you left France" Arthur noted as they rode, and Wynona turned to him, "Is America really so much better?" 

Wynona smirked a little bit, his curiosity charming her. And so she gave in, deciding that no bad could come of delving into her past. "In France, Romani teenage girls are highly sexualised by older men. Apparently in America it isn't much better, but at least now i can fend for myself. My mother and father didn't want that for me, and so we all migrated. Unfortunately, I'm beginning to lose my accent" Wynona smiled coyly, listening to her own voice, hearing her french accent fade away amidst the Americans. 

"I'd say it's still pretty..." He paused for a moment. "There. Your mother, she wasn't much like you and your father?"

Wynona smiled at the mostly fond memories she had of her mother. "My mother was part of high society, i guess it was her who finally convinced my father to go straight. She would dress me in petticoats and dresses and put lavender oil in my hair like i was some sort of china doll. My fathers best-friend would visit often, he lived in the other house in the centre of Saint Denis. Granted, I always found him a little...odd, but my mother found charm in him caring for me"

"And what of your father's best friend?"

"Last i heard he still lived in Saint Denis, i would visit, but I haven't went near the place since the undertakers left" She noticed. Suddenly, both Arthur and Wynona realised what she said. Wynona turned red in embarrassment, Arthur chuckled heartily. "Arthur Morgan, you are despicable, you've got me talking like a yankee" She laughed, unable to fathom the words that just left her mouth. Which is when she realised the punch in her chest at the mention of her father was only a small one. Arthur noticed it too, but he hadn't realise he was much to do with it, in fact he worried that she was getting better at hiding it. "My mother would have disowned me, I'm certain"

"Hey!" Arthur feigned offence, "It's not my fault you are so intent on my voice, LaDue". Whilst Arthur joked, Wynona felt called out, for that's all it felt her ears were made for, listening to his voice. The gruffness in his voice was manly, but there was something to delicate in the ruthless words he spoke. He was deliberate with his sentences and spaces, leaving a lingering silence every now and again, but Wynona lived for it and she was sure she would die for it too. "That's us here" He noted, breaking Wynona from her dreamy thoughts, jumping from his steed and landing on the green grass with a thud. She remained on her horse for a minute or two longer, looking out at the light ripples of moonlit water of the lake, a smallish island in the very centre that housed a few trees cast a silhouette across the waves. Arthur stood on the small rim of rocks that surrounded the visible perimeter of the lake. "The water ain't too cold"

"Does that mean you won't be pushing me in this time?" Asked Wynona as she stepped from her stirrups, making Arthur look back at her with a disappointed look. As if he didn't know she joked. "I'm kidding" She frowned, approaching him at the edge of the rocks. The water was clear, and they could both see the bottom for a few metres before it deepened. She deliberated for a few minutes, testing the water with her fingertip before deciding it wasn't all that cold. "I think I'm going to swim"

"Are you crazy, woman?" He cursed at her as she kicked off her boots, "You'll freeze!"

"It's not that cold" She defended herself, "plus, we probably won't make it back to camp tonight, so you'd best set up camp while i clean off". Arthur obliged with a roll of his eyes, grabbing his bed roll from his horse. Wynona began to undress into only the shorts she sported underneath her trousers, and the white vest she tended to sleep in. Arthur hadn't noticed her as she threw her clothing to the rocks and began to tip-toe into the water. She felt the moon on her face, lighting up her skin like a spotlight. Wynona lived for moments like this, realising that life was so painfully delicate, the simple things made her feel more alive than she ever did. The short time she had spent with Arthur made her feel like her pain was valid, he filled the hole in her heart like it was never there to begin with. As the water crept up her shins, it dawned on her how beautifully vengeful she could be, but was that for the best? The water began to grow deeper and deeper, rising up her limbs like impending doom. But she was so terrifically in control. Wynona no longer felt victim by her thoughts, a prisoner to her pent up feelings. As the chilly water reached her waist, she turned to Arthur who had begun to make the fire. His arms struck his flint and steel together, his back shaking with every attempt. With his back to her, she could study him all she wished. So beautiful was the man that made her fall like she was plummeting towards the ground, but he was her parachute. "Aren't you coming in?" She shouted to him, her voice cracking a little in the middle. Something felt so different in her heart that she could lie down and sob. Arthur turned to her, watching as the water clung to her hips, her chest rising and falling quickly. But as he went to answer, she took another step into the water and watched it climb to just below her breasts. 

"Aren't you freezing?" 

She wanted to run from the cold water and stand beside the fire, but the flames that surged through her insides made her stay. "No." She answered bluntly. "It's actually rather...nice. Come on. For me?". Arthur knew he couldn't say no now, because in this moment they both wanted the same thing. Each other. 

"You will be the death of me, woman" He sighed, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and then proceeding to roll his trouser legs up. "God, we are both gonna catch somethin'". As he wearily stepped in, Wynona turned to the moon and remembered what she said earlier, how much she preferred it to the sun. It took Arthur some time to make his way to the depth that she was at, his breaths shallow and harsh. But he suffered it for her. Wynona felt him approach the back of her, and his eyes on the scar that traced down the centre of the top of her spine. She cleared her throat, taking her braid out and letting her hair fall over it. But Arthur objected, his freezing cold hands catching her skin quickly. Wynona's breath hitched in her throat, her body going tense under the touch of Arthur Morgan. His index finger traced down her back, rising and falling under her self conscious breaths. "How did this happen?" He grumbled, his voice hushed and his hot breath beating down on her neck. 

Wynona felt speechless, like she was merely a puppet under his strings. "When I was a child, I used to climb the big tree in the garden, pretend i was an adventurer" She chuckled, but Arthur stayed silent, his body only centimetre's away from hers. "One day, I lose my footing and fall, but I fell onto the blade i left at the bottom. They thought i was going to die...But here i am". Her voice was more like a whisper, the moment was soft. 

"If it's any consolation..." Arthur began to speak, but Wynona decided to turn around so they stood face to face. Aching for one another. "...I'm very glad you survived"


	11. A night under the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a development/filler chapter x

"So what do you write about?" Arthur asked, leaning back on his canvas bedroll and taking a small swig of whiskey. He lay adjacent to Wynona, the campfire blaring in between them. She reached into her satchel and pulled a few pieces of loose paper, crumpled and worn, and handed it to Arthur, allowing herself to be vulnerable once more that night.

"Nothing in particular." She replied, but she knew it was nothing more than a white lie. She wrote what she felt. His eyes scanned over her perfect handwriting and became jealous for a moment of her upbringing. She had everything he didn't. There were markings on the paper of where she had made a mistake, or questions beside words she couldn't think of in English. He read the first poem, engulfing himself in the deep words.

_The night has a thousand eyes._

_And the day but one;_

_Yet the light of the bright world dies_

_With the dying sun._

 

_The mind has a thousand eyes,_

_And the heart but one;_

_Yet the light of a whole life dies_

_When love is done_

 

"You wrote that?" He asked, rereading the poem again and again, falling victim to Wynona's way with words. Wynona hummed in response. "It's good...great". He moved on to the second one, one that he got an inkling was about one person in particular. The words that he read made him reflect, in a bittersweet sense of good and bad. It was intricate and thoughtful whilst being careless and violent. This was a glimpse into Wynona LaDue's brain.

_You have changed me already. I am a fireball_

_That is hurtling towards the sky to where you are_

_You can choose not to look up but i am a giant orange ball_

_That is throwing sparks upon your face_

_Oh look at them shake_

_Upon you like a great planet that has been murdered by change_

_O too this is so dramatic this shaking_

_Of my great planet that is bigg_ _er than you thought it would be_

 

 

"Don't you have a journal?" asked Arthur, his fingers flicking over the two pieces of paper that he held loosely, wavering in his hands in the heat of the fire. "You might lose these"

"I was never quite sure where to get them" She noted, taking the pieces of paper back off of Arthur who pensively thought of the poems he had just read. Where they about him? "I used to have one when i was younger, I would press flowers in between the pages then draw around them because i couldn't draw to save myself" She chuckled sheepishly, remembering how when the wilted petals eventually crumbled in the tightly bound pages of the leather bound journal they would leave behind a smell she was yet to replicate. "When my father went on trips to strawberry, he would bring home flowers that only grew on the outskirts of town." Wynona smiled fondly, looking into the fire and getting lost amongst it's colours. "He knew they were my favourite"

"What were they?"

"Queen Orchids. They only grow in the summer, and then die in the autumn. But they smelled magnificent. There's a rather eccentric fellow who sells them in the greenhouses in Saint Denis so when my father failed to find some, he would buy them there." There was a comfortable silence, nobody wanting to spoil the moment. Arthur continued taking small swigs of whiskey from the green bottle that decreased in fullness each time. His eyes began to droop close, tiredness becoming him. "Get some sleep, Arthur. It's been a long day" She said softly, and Arthur obliged, shimmying down on his bedroll and placing his head down softly like a child. His hair fell over his face as he drifted into sleep, his lips slightly parted and small snores making his chest rise and fall. Long eyelashes cast a shadow across his cheekbones, the milky moon ensuring that his face stayed lightly illuminated. Wynona didn't feel tired, however, she felt wide awake. It was cold out, and Arthur's arms were folded around one another, trying to keep the heat inside himself. Instead of using her blanket, she stood up and threw it over Arthur. 

From her pocket she brought the paper her poems were on, and a pencil she carried everywhere with her, for emergencies. Her mind ran rampant with vacant thoughts she could help but indulge. She began to write, and write, and write until she was left with a poem that summed up tonight emotions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Regrets collect like old friends_  
_Here to relive your darkest moments_  
_I can see no way, I can see no way_

_And all of the ghouls come out to play_

_And every demon wants his pound of flesh_

_But I like to keep some things to myself_

_I like to keep my issues strong_  
_It's always darkest before the dawn_

_And I've been a fool and I've been blind_  
_I can never leave the past behind_  
_I can see no way, I can see no way_

_I'm always dragging that horse around_

_Our love is pastured such a mournful sound_  
_Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground_  
_So I like to keep my issues strong_  
_But it's always darkest before the dawn_

_'Cause I am done with my graceless heart_  
_So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_  
_'Cause I like to keep my issues strong_  
_It's always darkest before the dawn_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I tried to dance with the devil on your back_  
_And given half the chance would I take any of it back_  
_It's a final mess but it's left me so empty_  
_It's always darkest before the dawn_

_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_  
_So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road_  
_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_  
_It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat_  
_'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me_

Restless, she put her pencil down, her eyelids finally becoming heavy after three quarters of an hour. She turned over on to her side, facing Arthur for comfort, and shut her eyes, letting the hair that once cascaded down her back wrap around her neck. The heat from the fire kept her somewhat warm, but she still felt the goosebumps travel up her body in waves. Sooner or later, she finally drifted into apparent peaceful slumber, but not everything lasted.

_Complete darkness. Every breath echoing through the dismal abyss that she had grown to recognise. "Hello?" She shouted, and only the mimic of her own voice called back, multiple times. Mocking her. "Is anybody there?". Once more, nobody called back. Until a far off light became obvious, like a star, a mere pinprick through the night sky. As Wynona began to walk, the ground felt swampy below her. The light slowly grew closer as she worked hard to reach it, but the trip felt long, hours long. Suddenly, the light seemed to grow further away. "No!" She shouted, lifting her knees up high and beginning to run towards her possible escape, but not matter how hard she tried, it continued to flee. The ground began to swallow her feet like quicksand, taking her under the more she struggled. "Shit!" She cursed into the abyss, but the echo only prodded her with the premise of impending doom. Her calves began to sink through like a hundred hands from the underside pulling her under. She flailed her hands, trying to scream for help, but no noise left her mouth, only the prospect of what would be a deafening shriek. Soon enough, whole body was centimetres from being engulfed into what felt like black tar. Wynona held her breath as she went under._

Wynona gasped as she woke, the bright sun beaming into her sensitive open eyes. Instantly, she guarded her eyes with her forearm, trying to steady her spinning mind. 

"you alright?" Asked Arthur, leaning down at the campfire while he brewed some coffee. Wynona took a minute, rubbing her eyes from any sleep. She nodded, pulling the blanket off of her. She must have been going crazy, because she was sure she gave it to Arthur before she slept. 

"Fine." She croaked, "Just a dream". As she stretched, she let out a groan. The grass was wet from the dew, damp under her bedroll, and making her airwaves clear. Arthur handed her a cup of coffee, that she gladly drank. Her eyes still felt heavy from her interrupted sleep. Whilst the nightmares were less frequent, they were still there. "We should head back to camp. People might start talking" She giggled, finishing the drags of extra sweet coffee that spun around the bottom of the cup before standing. 

"People do little else" Arthur responded, rolling his bedroll tightly and putting it on the back of his horse. One he had meant to upgrade, but he didn't seem to have much luck breaking in horses. "You don't happen to have any experience breaking in horses, do you?"

Wynona pulled her shirt on and began to button it up, the blood stains nothing more than a dull pink, but she would still have to buy a new one next time she went to town. As she packed her belongings onto Apollo, he muzzled against her, looking for the attention that he had been lacking as of recent. "Sure. Are you thinking of buying a new one?"

"Maybe. As much as I love this one, it just ain't strong enough" He noted, running his fingers through its mane. "Where did you get Apollo from?"

"He was a gift from my father, but I have his papers at my old house. I need to go up there at some point anyway, so I'll look them out for you" She smiled warmly towards him, the sun warm on both of their faces. "Although I suggest you look around the plains here, I've seen some beauties." As they finished tearing down camp, Wynona looked out on the lake once more and remembered last nights encounter. They had been so close for so long, Wynona kicked herself for not making a move. "Ask Charles, he might know"

"What happened when you and Charles went huntin' the other night?" He asked, making Wynona look away for a moment, embarrassed at how she disappointed her friend. "He said it was nothin', but it didn't seem like nothin'". The truth was, Wynona trusted Charles more than most of the other members of camp, because he spent time with her. They weren't just around one another.

Wynona sighed, climbing onto Apollo, "We went out hunting and he took me to see the bison just west of here. But two men up the ridge had been killing them for fun." She began, "One thing lead to another and Charles just...burst. I haven't seen anything like it, Arthur, he exploded. Killed one of the men. But I told him to leave the other one because he had a family"

"Then why were you back late?"

"Because I pitied the man. I took him back to his home in Emerald Ranch and then i took the long way back to camp because i didn't want to face anybody" She spoke honestly and bluntly, "Especially not Charles."

"He tends to take that stuff pretty serious. You should talk to him, I think he said he wanted to apologise" Arthur noted as they began to ride slowly back to camp. He looked over at Wynona who still wore his hat, not wanting to take it off in case something happened to it. That's what she told herself. "He talks about you a lot, you know. I think he likes having someone else like him in camp" 

Wynona smiled, "He has nothing to apologise for. If i wasn't so soft this wouldn't have happened."

"Being soft ain't always a bad thing, LaDue." He corrected her, "But people might take advantage of that."

                                                                                                                       ***

They rode back to camp amongst nothing but small talk, finding random things to talk about here and there, but nothing of entire importance. As they approached the hitching post, Lenny was keeping guard, standing with his gun at the ready. "It's nice to finally see you two back" He shouted, "We were starting to think you had ran away". Wynona had not yet had the chance to talk to Lenny on a personal level for he always seemed to be busy in camp or out at town entirely. But she made a note to get to know him better. They were roughly the same age, and shared a lot of the same interests. They could be good friends.

"It was temptin'" Retorted Arthur, sharing a small laugh with Lenny as they reached camp. Charles had already noticed them riding in together and got out of his chair. As they hitched and climbed from their horses, Arthur smelled the tension in the air and decided to leave Wynona to go tell Dutch about the O'Driscolls that they had faced upon the cliff. Smith approached Wynona as she brushed Apollo's main, quiet and swift in his deliberate movements.

"Can we talk?" He asked bluntly, his voice slightly solemn, deeper than usual. 

"I'm listening" Wynona replied, still stingy from the hunting trip. She hooped Apollo's rope around the hitching post and then turned on her heels to face him. He wore different clothes today, she had noticed. A brown shirt today instead of his usual blue one, and the feathers that were woven into his long hair were pulled around his shoulders.

Charles sighed, "I'm being serious. We need to talk". Wynona shrugged, already defeated in her quest to be stern with Charles. In reality, she enjoyed his company. He wasn't tiring. They both trailed over to Wynona's wagon, where she threw her coat down. "I presume Arthur already told you, but I wanted to apologise about the other day" He began, standing above Wynona as she sat down on her cot, "When I came back to camp I realised my mistake. And I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have stuck such a moral dilemma on your shoulders so soon after the loss of your father. It was cruel of-.."

"It's okay, Charles. Don't worry about it" She smiled up at him weakly, trying to show her enthusiasm. "You were in your right mind to be so angry. It was just a shock, that's all"

"Oh...well" He began to stutter, not expecting easy forgiveness, "I got you this. Call it a peace calling". Charles thrust a package towards her, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. "I was out hunting last night, an old man claimed to have the gun of the famous Amos LaDue. He was selling it for 50 bucks." There was a tense silence, "I'm not sure if it's the real one, but i thought you might appreciate the sentiment" He rambled, afraid of her unapparent reaction. She immediately opened the box, and inside sat a gun, delicate carvings in the stock of the handle. A dark gunmetal, like the colour of charcoal. She remembered what he would call it. The Peacemaker. Her heart lurched at the sight of it. His finger once pulled the trigger on that gun. He silenced so many mouths with the meaningful lump of cool metal she weighed in her hand.

"Charles..." She began, but soon trailed off, in too much shock to form proper sentences. So instead of thanking him with words, she got too her feet and engulfed him and thanked him with actions. Wynona was sure she might have cried a bit, but a shocked Charles soon wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she held him tight. "Thank you. Thank you so much" She breathed heavily into his clothes, "I will never forget this"

"It belonged to you" He smiled a little as they pulled away, "It was the least i could do". Charles adored Wynona, and the feeling was very much mutual. They shared something the rest of the group lacked. Common ground. While he was quiet and sulky with the rest of the camp, he didn't feel any need to be ominous with her. A switch had been flicked inside of Wynona's brain. Like maybe this is where she belonged, after all. 

 

The sun had began to set, and Wynona found herself wandering aimlessly about camp. Nothing to do, and no-one to talk to. Until Dutch beckoned her from his tent. "Wynona, my dear. Come and sit down". Dutch and Wynona had pointless, small conversations since she got to camp, but they hadn't actually had the chance to catch up. He was the first man her father ever rode with. She saw Dutch as a father figure more than anything. "How are you finding camp?" He asked, dealing cards between the two of them in an impromptu game of poker, with nothing to win and nothing to lose. 

"It's nice. I feel like I might belong here." Wynona smiled up at him, knowing she had put her keep in, and some. Her contributions kept the camp running smoothly, but she never wrote her own name beside the largish chunks of money she would put in the box for more supplies. Instead, she would look down the page and see whoever hadn't been able to contribute as much that week, and write their name instead. Sometimes if they got asked about it, they would seem confused, but Dutch never pushed it in case they changed their mind. "Do you like it at Horseshoe Overlook?" She asked, "It must make a change from the mountains"

Dutch chuckled a little bit, "I'd rather live in an outhouse than have stayed another second in those god-awful mountains" He claimed, taking his turn at the card-game at hand. "I'm afraid we might have to move sometime soon", He frowned visibly. 

"How so?"

"Arthur took Jack fishing not too long ago, and Pinkerton's approached them. Knew exactly who he was and everything. Offered him his freedom if he turned me in" Dutch explained. "And then John came in from town one day, mentioned that a feller and a couple other folks were hanging around. He said they didn't look like they were from around here". Wynona remembered both instances briefly, when John came in flustered and panicked and Arthur was left to calm him down. Wynona looked around for Morgan, who currently wasn't anywhere to be found. "So, you and Arthur?" Dutch stated, accusingly. Wynona's ears instantly burned, her cheeks hidden under the dull candle light. 

"I'm not sure what you mean" She stated boldly, before claiming she had won the hand and swiftly changing the subject from something less intrusive. "Where is Molly?" She asked, looking around from the ginger-haired irish-woman but not finding her, much like Arthur. 

"Probably away powdering her nose, or something. You know what high-society is like" He flippantly commented, not realising the insult he had just delivered to Wynona on a golden platter, "I'm just kiddin'" He stated, flicking his eyes up to Wynona who watched him like a hawk. "You know i love her"

Wynona smiled weakly. Dutch was a perfect reminder that love could still thrive in an environment like this. And it made her feel hopeful. "You're a very lucky man, Van Der Linde. What she sees in an outlaw like you is beyond me". They both shared kidding remarks and comments like this until the game of poker was over, Wynona having lost the majority of the rounds and ultimately losing the entire match and so they settled that Wynona would owe Dutch one in the future. 

As she was wandering around camp, she bumped into Lenny, who sat at a table reading a book beside the glow of a candle. Lenny seemed smart, well-versed. Somebody Wynona would get along with, and so she sat down. "Lenny Summers?" She asked, not wanting to get his name wrong and fall at the first hurdle.

"That is correct. I'm not sure I've had the pleasure as of yet", he extended his hand which she gladly shook. "How are you finding us?" Lenny asked, closing his book over carefully, the bookmark peeking out of the top. "I know there are some of us who are..." He leaned in and whispered "...Morally questionable"

Wynona chuckled, "I'm afraid I've not spoke to everybody yet. You might have to give me the run down" She prompted, watching as his eyes darted around the camp looking for a place to start. As Lenny leaned in closer, she got a closer look at his features. He was a young boy, maybe just a year or two younger than herself. Handsome too. He had a lot going for him.

"Over there are the girls. Cliquey bunch so they are. Karen is the snarky one, but she's sweet underneath. Like Hosea and Trelawny, she's a scammer. Her and Sean seem to be an item but nobody really knows" He pointed over to the light-blonde woman who listened to Tilly speak passionately. "That's Tilly. Simple girl, real lovely." Her hair was up perfectly, her yellow dress complimenting her flawless skin. "Mary-Beth, she's a writer, you two would get along. Real nice. Abigail and Sadie don't tend to hang around them all too much." He turned in his seat moving onto the men of the camp, "Javier, he's quiet but not as quiet as Charles. Cuban and Extremely loyal" They looked over to the man who played at his guitar, and remembered how good he was at playing from Sean's return party. He then pointed over to the lady who she had seen marching about camp on a mission most days. "That's Miss Grimshaw, she's pretty much the boss of the place. She stands for no bullshit, I'll tell ya' but shes protective. Him over there, that's Pearson. Bit sleazy, but he makes a good stew. And if you haven't already heard, he was in the navy for a while." Pearson seemed decent enough, and he kept everybody well fed. "Strauss is our money-handler, because none of us are emotionally unstable enough to give other people our money. He's a mousy man, but he wouldn't hurt a fly. Reverend Swanson is...well, he's a character. A bit of a drunk and a loud-mouth, but he's decent. Oh, and that's the famous Sean Macguire. A petty thief and a stickup man and the most annoying, big-headed man I have ever met, but I can't bring myself to hate him" He pointed over to the red-headed man who sat by the campfire. "He doesn't shut up about that day you save him."

"Let's hope I don't live to regret that" She said, making Lenny laugh and agree.

"Him there, that's Hosea. Like Dutch, but level-headed. He is real decent, but don't get on the bad side of him. Sadie Adler is like you, but she wants revenge. She hasn't been with us for long, just a bit longer than you. Trelawny is out of camp, as he usually is, but he's the only person Dutch allows to drift. A bit flamboyant, shall we say. Oh and Uncle is Uncle. Lazy sod, but he's entertaining. And as you may have already been told, steer clear of Micah Bell." As Arthur finally walked back into camp, Lenny saw him and thought it would be wise to include him in the run-down. "That's Arthur Morgan. Been an outlaw since he was 14, which is when Dutch and Hosea took him in. I'd say he's the best man I've ever known"

"So would I" She nodded, watching as Arthur approached Dutch's tent, only to find him lying in his cot. "But what about you?"

"Me? I ain't nothing but a good shot, I'm afraid. Running from every lawman in the state who wanted to lynch me, and here i am. Your turn"

"Moved from France to Saint Denis. Lived in an old country house for a while before my father got a job in Saint Denis as a banker. After I left Saint Denis, a man i used to go with killed all his friends then left me to take the blame. And now I'm an well-off outlaw. I don't think it could get any more ironic if i tried". That reminded her. She needed to go to her old house to collect some of her belongings. She would call it a home, but it never really felt like one. Not when she was cold and alone all of those lonely nights. What she did enjoy, however, was the foggy nights she would spend in the gazebo, looking out at the still water and writing. The house had been left unguarded, and so she didn't look forward to what she might find. Her eyes were glued to Arthur, who was yet to spy them at the table. A small frown couldn't help but creep up on to her face in memorial of the life she had lost, no matter how much she disliked it.  As she just about slipped into a dismal daydream, Arthur finally spotted them, approaching the table they sat at. 

"I've been looking for you" He smiled a little when he sat down beside Lenny, reckoning sitting beside her would be too inconspicuous. Wynona's eyes peered up at him, and they met for only a moment. It pained her dearly, to look upon Arthur, for when she did she saw everything she wanted, and all she wanted was peace. "Isn't it getting late?"

Wynona checked her pocket watch, looking at the time carelessly. It was only 9pm. The moon cast an odd shadow on to his face. "Not at all". She stood up absently, looking over at Charles who sat in his tent, right in the middle of camp. People began to settle down, falling asleep peacefully. There was something about Charles that comforted her. Perhaps it was how he reminded her of home. Perhaps it was how loyal he was to Arthur. But as she traipsed over to her own cot, Arthur staying behind to talk to Lenny, her eyes fell upon a letter that sat on Arthur's bedside table, it had already been opened. Slowly, she let her eyes scan over it and felt something inside of her. Sadness, perhaps, but jealousy fit like a jigsaw piece. It was from a woman, and apparent former flame, and how she thought of him often.  _My Dear Arthur,_ She referred to him by. Mary her name was. Wynona's stomach seemingly lurched, and once more she went for a swim in her pool of emotions. Her face burned a bright red, and she turned away, not wanting to read any more of what it said. He had never mentioned Mary, and now she felt like a fool.

"Are you okay, Wynona?" Charles asked, his voice monotone. She looked up at him and nodded, before walking by him and grabbing her coat. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. If Arthur asks, tell him I'm going to make a social call" Wynona smiled weakly, lying through her teeth to her closest friend. She almost felt guilty. She would have if she wasn't feeling an abundance of other things.

"But it's 9 o'clock at night" He reasoned with her, knowing immediately that she was lying. Wynona didn't answer, instead she sneaked away from camp unbeknown to everybody there. Nobody heard her leave, and nobody knew where she went. Charles shook his head and looked down at the letter she had been reading before she fled and he frowned. Not even he knew the story, but he knew she was the reason he had a fortress around his heart but he could see the progress she made on him, chiselling it away slowly, day after day. But now, with the stone she got from him, she had just constructed her own wall, that only she could knock down.

"Where did Wynona go?" A voice from behind Charles startled him, making him jump a little. Charles thought for a moment, that wasn't suspicious, and prepared to lie for his friend. 

Charles turned to face him, "She said she had to go into town for something" 

"But it's 9 at night?" He seemed confused for a moment, before he looked at the open letter he had mistakenly left there. He had agreed to help Mary get her little brother back, but Mary broke his heart, and for that he wanted little to do with her. Charles thought had done the right thing, but he just accidentally told the truth. He sighed, throwing the piece of paper down forcefully and sighed loudly, knowing it wasn't safe for a woman to be riding into town late at night, no matter how well she could handle herself. Arthur worried if she had read the letter.

"I think she wanted to be left alone" Charles tried to stop him from following her, but he couldn't physically. Arthur's eyebrow furrowed, angry at her for putting herself in danger. "She'll be back in the morning"

Arthur turned to him as he walked to his horse, "That's if she isn't in a brown box by then" He grew angrier by the second, but knew he had a duty to protect her. 

***

By the time he rode into town, the lights where only on in 3 of the buildings. The hotel, the saloon and the small house beside the gunsmith. He hitched his horse outside the hotel, the saloon piano music leaking from the double doors across the street. As he entered, a tired looking man stood behind the counter, instantly stiffening upon his presence. "You seen a woman come in here? Tanned, lots of hair, quite young lookin'"

"I'm afraid not, however I did see a lady fitting that description walk into the saloon about 30 minutes ago" he said as he looked over Arthur's shoulder through the stained glass window. "I didn't see her leave, fortunately."

"I'll be right back" Arthur said, marching from the hotel over to the saloon, where the jumpy beat of an upbeat piano song drowned out the noise of the late night depression drinkers. He saw her as soon as he walked in, sitting on the stairs, slumped over like she was unconscious. A drink sat beside her, on the very verge of being toppled over. Her hair fell over her face, her arms hanging sadly by her side. As he slowly approached her, she looked up at him, bleary eyes and blinking unevenly. Wynona recognised his shoes, his footsteps, even when painfully drunk. "Are you stupid, woman?!" He cursed at her, but she paid no heed. "Do you ever think things through?!"

"Piss off, will you, Arthur?" She slurred calmly, wanting nothing more than to drown out the pain. All of it. There was something so blissfully numbing about getting drunk. "How did you even find me?" Wynona leaned her head against the worn banister of the saloon, taking another swig from the bottle beside her. 

"Charles told me". Wynona rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"Of course he did" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I can handle myself, you know. You won't be able to baby me forever" Her voice cracked in multiple places, and it almost pained Arthur to hear her like this. He hoped he wasn't the root for this event, but she obviously read the letter, there was no other explanation. "Aren't you done? I've told you already, leave me be"

"Why are you being like this?" He asked bluntly, folding his arms now.

Wynona shut her eyes for a moment, "What do you care, Morgan? Perhaps I just enjoy the taste" She hissed, her rational brain telling her that the letter meant nothing, but her heart couldn't help but feel hurt. 

" _Why do I care_? Don't start that game with me, Wynona. Just come with me" He was pained by the sentence, but he tried to hide it the best he could. Like a blow to the chest, he felt slightly winded. "Come on"

"Why should i?"

"Because an O'Driscoll could walk in at any moment and your almost black out drunk, that's why!" He shouted, the saloon going tensely quiet after he did so. Soon the chatter began to bounce off the walls once more, and Arthur didn't want to be here any longer. "Please?" Wynona rolled her eyes dramatically, standing up and instantly tripped over thin air. Thankfully, Arthur was there to grab her. "I can't believe you" He cursed under his breath, hooking an arm under her armpit.

"Can you just...stop" She said as her mood changed into melancholy self pity. "Stop acting like my bloody father" Her voice cracked, slurring the words together, "because he's...dead"

They left the saloon, the nauseating smell of the fresh air instantly made her feel queasy. Arthur sighed at her remark, "Don't talk like that, Wynona" He warned, "I just want to make sure you're safe"

Wynona's eyes shut over, her mouth beginning to water and bubble. She knew it was coming. "Hold that thought" 

"What?" Wynona doubled over, throwing up on to the dirt below her feet. As she coughed and gagged, Arthur took a hold of her hair, making sure it didn't get in the way of her pitiful vomiting. She leaned a hand on the wood banister, steadying herself as she emptied her stomach on the ground. "You're alright" He rubbed her back, soothing her heavy breaths. "Come on, let's get you to bed" his voice softened, leading her across the road to the hotel. His hand dipped into his own satchel, pulling out a small amount of money. 

"You found her, I see?" The attendant asked as they stumbled in. Arthur slammed the money on the table, concentrating on getting her up he stairs to a spare bedroom. "Room 4!" He called up after them. She pitifully tried to walk up the stairs with no help, but Arthur wouldn't let her in case she fell. Her head hung in shame, embarrassed of what she had done.

As they found their way to the room, Wynona had began to sober up slightly, steadier on her feet, but still slurring her words. "Oh, Arthur" She mumbled, kicking her boots off and sluggishly pulling herself to the big double bed she had missed so dearly. "What am I doing?"

"You're feelin', darlin'" He absently-mindedly said, pulling back the covers of the bed and becoming jealous that he wasn't able to lie inside them. But he wanted to respect her space. "Happens to us all"

Wynona smirked, "Darlin'? I like it" She chuckled, pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it to the ground in front of Arthur. "I'm sorry, Arthur" Wynona said, still not in clear control of her thoughts and relative words, "I just saw that letter...and...well, I don't know what came over me." Arthur grew nervous, afraid of having messed things up once more. He'd never felt this way for anybody, not even Mary. "I hope you can find it in your big, warm heart to forgive me" She turned around and poked his chest with her finger. 

"Wynona, Mary and I had a past, but it's not like that no more." He assured her, "What the hell, you're not even going to remember this conversation in the morning anyway, but what I feel for you, makes me feel like maybe this whole fight ain't so pointless after all". Arthur turned red, unable to believe the words he had just spoken, but they both know what they felt. 

Wynona took a step back, "I'm not sure what you are trying to say, Arthur" She said, looking up at him from across the room. "


	12. A pass time robbery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 45

Things had been hectic for the camp recently, and Wynona and Arthur barely got to see each other. She had began to heal. Slowly but surely. Her heart ached less when she thought of her father and speaking of him brought back pleasant memories instead of the scene she had found him in, but nothing would stop the nightmares, not now at least.

Arthur and John had been away from camp pretty much all day, and Strauss and Dutch just left for town. There was something going on, she could feel it in her bones. There had been a lot of robberies going on, none of which she had went along on. She heard them talking in the tent one night, Dutch, Javier and Charles. Charles said robberies were the last thing she needed right now, but he only wanted to protect her. Dutch had hope in her, being the best shot and the most ferocious fighter he had seen yet, including her father. But he agreed with Charles, he felt a different duty of protection than he did with the rest of them. For Dutch, Wynona was part of his past, like looking into the eyes of his old friend and having him there once more.

"Wynona LaDue" A chipper Irish voice distracted her from her thoughts. "I still haven't thanked you properly for what you did back then". She knew instantly who it was, for he was the only Irish man in camp and the only one brave enough to talk to her on their own accords. Which pained Wynona, but she understood that they only didn't want to hurt her. 

"There's really no need, Sean" She turned to him, squinting her eyes in the sun behind his shoulder. "I would have done it for anybody, don't go thinking you're special" She smirked. There was something about Sean that brought out the funny side in her. He wasn't as serious as the rest of them. "What are you doing in camp anyway, I thought you would be out annoying somebody. Unless I have that pleasure today"

"I'm sorry i don't live up to the standards of the sulky mountain man himself" He laughed, "But i have some business that needs doin', and you seem like the perfect person to help". The tone in his voice made it painfully obvious he was planning something mischievous, if his normal personality wasn't enough to go on. He leaned around one of the posts beside her wagon, folding his arms across his chest.

Wynona stood up, putting her hands on her hips, "And what is this business?" She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, putting down the book she was reading. The one Abigail had bought for her. She still meant to buy her something in return. 

They began walking across camp, Sean's hand patting her upper back forcefully, "I was ridin' around, a couple a'days back and I come across this old cabin. Couple a'fuckers lazing around outside all liquored up" He sniggered lightly, snorting as he did so, "I didn't think nothin' of it, but then i come across this hunter down by the river and he tells me they're a stick-up crew. Says they hit a train a couple a'days back near emerald ranch. Nice feller he was, shared a bottle we did. And then i robbed the bastard blind" He laughed once more, to no surprise from Wynona.

"And you believed him?" She asked, unable to deny that it sounded tempting, and easy, and perhaps a job that would keep her occupied. Arthur wouldn't be happy. Not in the slightest, but with him gone so often she was bored senseless. Being boxed up in the camp could drive a woman insane. She suddenly realised how Molly felt.

"No reason not to. If he's right, it'll be a big haul for us. I saw three of them, maybe more, but I reckon you and me...we could take them real easy". He gave her a moment or two to think, and she couldn't resist. 

With a sigh, she spoke, "Alright, what the hell, let's go check it out" Wynona shook her head.

Sean laughed, "Those sons of bitches think they're mean, they're about to get a lesson in mean". They both walked over to where their horses were coincidentally hitched beside one another and climbed on, ready to go rob some unsuspecting men of what they didn't deserve. 

"Why didn't you ask Charles, or Javier, or something?" She asked, "They weren't busy"

Sean led the way towards the cabin he claimed wasn't too far away. "They're threatened by me. I'm a spry young thing and they are nothin' more than some old men who think they're tough. That, and they hate my guts. You, on the other hand, yer' not so serious. I hope anyway"

"You barely know me" She said and couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. 

"Yeah, but I know what you did for me, and I appreciate it" He turned to her and smiled, winking sheepishly as they ran out of the trees and towards the cabin. She hadn't spoke to Sean an awful lot, for she never really had the time. He was either out at town, haranguing some innocent folk or out at the saloon drinking. "I know none of the other guys would have done that"

"I think you underestimate them. I'm just stupid" They both chuckled under their breaths, riding closer towards the cabin. "You're all good men"

Sean hummed in disagreement, "Not all them in camp are. I wouldn't trust half of them as far as I could throw them" He said, "Dutch hasn't got a clue who he's riding with."

"How do you know Dutch, anyway. You two don't seem like the sort to get along" asked Wynona.

Sean snorted at the very thought, "He caught me trying to pick his pocket, and thought I'd fit in with his crew of other degenerates, I guess he saw something in a bright young thing like myself. If you don't mind me askin', what are you even doin' here?"

"After the death of my father" Two months next week, "I was left alone. Dutch, he's the closest thing to my father being alive than I'm going to get" Wynona told him, "I have a price on my head, and if i was riding alone, I'd have been found already"

"Arthur mentioned you had a house up west. If you have a price on your head, why not just go and hide out there?"

"That house is filled with memories I don't want to face right now" She smiled warmly towards him, understanding his curiosity, all of that land, that space, and just letting it rot. "Isn't that the cabin?" She asked, pointing towards an old, run down cabin through the break of the trees. Sean nodded, saying they should go on food from here in case they saw or heard the horses. As they got closer they heard voices, "Keep one of them alive, so he can tell us where the money's stashed" She whispered.

"Good plan" As they neared the top of the small hill that led up to the cabin, and outside stood one man, "This is good. You hang back, I'll do the talkin'" He insisted, not giving Wynona a chance to get a word in edgeways. Suddenly she grew a little nervous of what could happen, them being a stick-up crew and all that. She followed him down to the front of the cabin, a short walk across ugly, dead grass. "Hey there" He exclaimed, making the oldish man rise from his rocking chair.

He immediately went to grab his gun, aiming it at the duo, "I'm givin' you 'bout five seconds to get off my property, boy!" The man shouted at them, and Sean immediately stuck up his hands innocently. He was bold, she had to give him that.

"Look, we don't want no trouble" He insisted, being disconcertingly good at lying, "I just thought you might like to know that we passed a big posse of lawmen headed this way" He pointed from the opposite direction from which they game, "About a dozen of 'em, coming up east"

The man began to visibly panic, dropping his gun by his side, "What? Where?" As the man turned away to walk across the porch, clear concern in his eyes, Sean pulled his pistol on him and aimed it at his skull.

"Right here" He sneered, before pulling the trigger and letting the mans brains fly across the porch and the rocking chair which he peacefully dozed on less than a minute ago. As his body hit the ground, the rest of the stick up crew came round the side of the house having heard the gunshot. "Watch out, Wynona. Here come the rest of 'em"

Gunshots began to ring out, echoing throughout the enclosed area, but Sean and Wynona quickly found cover behind a large stack of chopped logs waiting to be burned. She pulled her new pistol from her holster, ensuring it was loaded amongst the pure chaos. There were more than they thought. She ducked out of cover, shooting precisely, and taking three men out before she reloaded. The recoil on the gun was harsh, but the pistol itself was stronger than most she had ever tried. The men flooded out of the door of the cabin like waterworks, or a magic trick, and instantly began to shoot helplessly at the attackers. Adrenaline ran through their veins, and it urged them to run, but the fight was what excited them. "Look out, there's more coming out of the woods!" Wynona shouted at Sean who now proceeded to run across to the side of the house, bullets ricocheting off of everything around them. She took out a few more that were pushing up on Sean, seeing as he wasn't the best gunfighter on the planet and held them off before she was forced to hold her own from the man who came from the trees, threatening to crowd around her if she wasn't quick and precise. After a couple of minutes being caught up in a gunfight, there only remained one Outlaw, who shook on the floor of the cabin like his life depended on it. 

"Come out with your hands up! Nice and easy" Sean shouted, "You saw what we did to your pals here". The man, clad in nothing more than a body warmer and some slacks, came out with his hands high in the air. 

"Shit...I give up!" He pleaded, standing above them on the front of the porch, "Please don't shoot, I'm unarmed!" She saw Sean nod towards him from the corner of his eye, threatening manners not being his strong suit.

Wynona took a step towards him, making him flinch, "If you want to live you'll tell us where that money's stashed" She threatened, making him give in easily. She had never seen herself as particularly scary, but it seemed others disagreed. Sean smirked a little, knowing what she didn't.

"Alright...Alright. Take it easy" The mans voice quivered, "Behind the wall...in the bedrooms if you stick your hand between the gap" He gave in, clearly not wanting to land in the same fate his friends ended up in, but Wynona couldn't help but think he would have been better off. 

"Alright, you grab the money, I'll keep an eye on sunshine here" Sean prompted, and Wynona was already on it. She climbed onto the porch and through the bullet-hole ridden open door. The fire was still alight, and Wynona instantly saw the bottles of unopened alcohol on the table and decided it wouldn't make much difference if she stole from food and drink from them too, seeing as they had already killed all of them bar one. "You know what? Just get the hell out of here and don't look back" Sean told the man from outside the cabin, changing his mind as quick as the winds. As Wynona looted the dirty homestead of all it's Kentucky Bourbon and salted beef, Sean followed her in. "So, here we are. We got some good stuff" He took a deep, almost defeated breath. 

"Why don't you go see what else you can find, Sean?" Wynona asked as she walked into the bedroom, looking around for the supposed gap in the wall.

He fumbled around in the next room, "Told you we'd take 'em easy, didn't I?"

"You did good, but let's see what the pay is first" She answered as she bent down, her eye catching the glimmer of the lock on the gun box under the bed. A double-action revolver sat inside, in decent condition. Whilst she didn't need it, it could be sold for a fair amount. 

"Dug this up all by myself. A proper lead" Sean started getting cocky, and Wynona couldn't help but smile. He seemed to appreciate the funnier side of life. One that she had missed quite a bit. Sure, she enjoyed Arthur and Charles' company, but they weren't ones for banter, whereas Sean never stopped with it. "You heard him, right? He said the stash was behind a loose board in the bedroom". Wynona didn't answer, but instead she started searching the room for the supposed loose board, one that had proved tricky to find. She picked up some revolver ammo, and a $10 that sat on the table underneath the window atop a letter. "You find that thing yet?" He rushed her,  "We don't want to overstay our welcome, do we?" She finally found what they were looking for, after some guidance from Sean, and stuck her arm in between the gap. It fell to the floor, making a dense thud as it did so and the Irishman immediately marched over, cocking his head like a chicken. 

"This is more like it" Wynona said, counting the stack of money with her dainty fingers, "Good work". She dealt out the money, giving Sean his cut and not bothering to take her own. "If you ever find another place that needs robbing, you know where to find me. That was some fun" Wynona smiled.

He laughed heartily, "I knew you would enjoy it. I'm gonna head back to camp. You coming?"

"I'm going to head into town, but I'll meet you back there. Ride safe, now"

"You too"

 


	13. A second new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 43

Wynona arrived at the edge of town, the farmers market on one side of her and the station at the other. She had never liked arriving at town as she felt the smell of animal manure was too strong, but she was here anyway. It was busy today, with the sun completely split in the sky, something Wynona was rather glad about these days. Miss Grimshaw would get angry when it was cold as the washing wouldn't dry completely and they would be walking around with slightly damp clothes on. 

"Afternoon, miss" A man greeted her on the way into Valentine, his gaze lingering on her for longer than she liked. But as he tipped his hat his glance changed direction. Wynona returned the short gesture, it was nice to be nice. As she slowed to a trot, she noticed something in the air. Something wasn't right, and she knew it. The stale tension that hung around like a bad smell was enough to tell her to run in the opposite direction but the man that appeared from the alleyway had a different idea.

He popped his head out desperately, squinting his eyes in her general direction. "Hello? Is anybody there?" the man asked, "I've dropped my spectacles and I can't seem to find them". If there was something fishy about this encounter, Wynona was yet to see it. Of course she helped, it was in her kind nature to help the helpless.

Wynona hitched Apollo, and for a moment she thought she saw Arthur's horse at the other run down saloon on the way into town but the wagon that travelled slowly down the road blocked her view before she got the chance to double take. "Where did you drop them?" Asked Wynona, not taking a moment to really think things through. He ushered her down the alleyway, mumbling to himself like a crazy person. She reached the smallish square of dull green grass that conjoined a block of flats. She saw nothing but patches were the water affected the growth of the grass, no glasses whatsoever. Which is when it sprung into her head, that this was clearly a set up. But it was already too late. The hard metal of a gun handle clattered off the back of her head, making her stumble forward, landing on her hands and knees. "Shit" She cursed, attempting to crawl to her feet and fight off the attacker, who could see perfectly fine. But as she turned to strike him, the same cold gun that struck her now warm head connected with her face. That was going to bruise. The force of the blow sent her crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll, her body slamming into the grass. As she lay there, the ground spinning like a spintop around her, she felt the blood dribble down from her nose rhythmically, pooling into her deep cupids bow before continuing into her mouth. Her head ached to the high heaven, unable to comprehend a thing that had just happened. "What do you want from me?" She mumbled, barely able to form the words, but she wasn't sure if she had actually spoke them or just imagined she did. 

"Van Der Linde!" A voice shouted from out in the street, one she had never heard before, "Get out here! Get out here, now!" There was a tension in the air, one she didn't like in the slightest. "Van Der Linde, you don't know me, but you keep robbing me. My name is Leviticus Cornwall. I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you". The man who struck Wynona proceeded to fasten his arm around her neck and pull her to the ground. He was stronger than her and had the advantage in every way. He dragged her out into the street, still bewildering Wynona to her wits end. She would stumble over his feet and he would pull his grip tighter. "Get out here now before I have these people killed!" Cornwall sat on his steed, his hair grey and his face old but scary. As she was dragged into line, her eyes fell upon the two men she was joining. John Marston and Leopald Strauss. John looked at her, worry written in his eyes amongst the smugness. But if John was here, where was Arthur?

"Get off me!" Wynona exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of the mans slimy hands, but he only pulled her tighter, restricting her airways once more. There seemed to be little hope for them, Dutch clearly deciding not to appear from the saloons to save them. There was utter, paining silence as the townsfolk decided to flee from the streets. There was a gun pointed to each of their temples, the cold metal cooling down the aching warmth that spread through her head. 

"Get out here, you depraved piece of trash!" Leviticus continued, clearly not taking no for an answer, "You think I got where I am by letting scum like you rob from me?" Wynona had been nothing to do with the train robbery, or the wagon hold-ups they had been executing, yet she still found a way to suffer the consequences. "Van Der Linde, you're done! Now get out here, now!" He shouted, but as nobody showed from the swinging saloon doors, Wynona began to think that perhaps her and her two friends were done for. "Deal with this nonsense" Leviticus spat at his men, urging them to kill them all. John's knees buckled from the force of his holders kick, and Strauss began to pleade for his life. LaDue, on the other hand, stayed completely silent. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction. Her head turned stiffly to look at John, who's eyes were screwed shut in anticipation. His hand flew out to her wrist, the grip so tight she was afraid it would bruise. But as all hope seemed lost, two men emerged from the saloon. Dutch, with Arthur behind his left shoulder, both of their hands up in the air. 

"Please, gentlemen, this is a terrible mistake" Dutch began to spin a yarn around the men, wrapping them in a web of lies, "This is a case of mistaken identity". Arthur and Dutch stood side by side on the wooden saloon porch, looking like rather innocent men for the murdering they were about to do. Van Der Linde looked at Wynona's bloodied face, the bleary eyes that stared straight past him and the man's arm that was fastened around her throat and felt a sudden anger, one he could barely control. "What is worse than admonishing a man for the sins of another?" Arthur stared them all down, his face serious, a look she had seen before. "Who wants to be the messiah?" Arthur's hand began to creep towards his gun as Dutch spoke, and she became scared this was about to go wrong, that somebody was going to die here today. And she prayed it was her before anybody else. "Not me..." Arthur readied himself into position, "Nor do I want to be this 'Dutch Van Der Linde'...whoever he may be"

Arthur drew his gun as fast as lightening, giving Wynona a nod to do what she had to do while he helped Marston and Strauss out of their situation. She send her foot kicking back into the knee of the man behind her so hard that she heard an audible snap that should have made her cringe is she wasn't so used to it by now. As Wynona turned, she pulled out the peacemaker, and forced it under his chin before pulling the trigger, watching the permanent regret in his eyes solidify there. No more would he cross Wynona LaDue. There was an anger that flushed her face red, or perhaps that was just the blood, but she stood still for a moment and tried to comprehend what was happening. 

"Wynona" Arthur rushed over to her with concern written across his face. "Wynona, are you okay?" He questioned, but she only nodded, raising her hand to the back of her head. As she pulled it away, the crimson red that sat moist on her fingers was a warning sign that she may not be as okay as she once thought. Her shallow breaths concerned Arthur.

"I thought I was dead" She spoke quietly, "I really thought that was the end". Wynona looked up at him, a different sort of appreciation than once before. Perhaps coming close to death was something she needed to see that he was what she truly needed. 

Arthur looked down at her with pained eyes, "I'd never let that happen" He grabbed her hand, pulling it close to his chest and holding it there for a moment. Wynona's hand shook, for a reason unknown to her. "I promise".

More gunshots made them jump, and just when the Van Der Linde gang thought they were safe they were thrown back into gun fighting. They had to get out of here, and they had to get out of here now. Wynona decided that if anybody was to risk their lives today, it should be her. She crouched behind a barrel that was conveniently placed on the side of the road and began shooting. As she popped up and down out of cover, sending bullets towards the men who began to swarm around their only way out, she saw a wagon with tall sides, perfect cover. "Get behind that wagon and push it down the street!" Wynona shouted towards Dutch who was taking out men left, right and centre. But as he went to reply, a stark scream echoed throughout the streets. Strauss had been shot through his calf, immediately falling to the ground in astounding pain. "Arthur, put Strauss in the back of the wagon!"

"And what about you?" He shouted back from a few metres away. Wynona counted her bullets, soon realising she wouldn't have enough to take out the hoards of men. And so she pulled out her rifle, filling it with ammo and readying it to shoot. An odd vengeance filled her bones.

She cocked her gun, "I'm going to take these bastards out" She cursed, standing up and aiming through her rolling block at the men who stood on the balconies above. One of her eyes was screwed shut, to stop her seeing double, and she began. Arthur shouted protests as she stepped from behind the barrel, afraid she would get herself killed. But Wynona's jaw was gritted and entirely silent, not distracting herself by nattering pointless objections.  She took out three men in the space of 5 seconds, completely devoting herself to getting the gang out of here safely. Arthur ran to the back of the wagon and began to push, his boots digging into the damp mud. She watched him as they began to inch their way towards the horses at the theatre tent. Strauss shouted feeble cries of pain, only to be shushed by Arthur who concentrated on pushing the wagon. The smell of gunpowder made Wynona queasy, but still she continued until the sound of gunshots grew less frequent. She was out of breath and sweating, the pressure of keeping everybody safe crippling her. "Arthur, put Strauss on John's horse. Everyone else go back to camp. Arthur, come with me" She insisted, and everybody obeyed, including Dutch who climbed on the count. 

"Well done, Wynona." he spoke down to her, "You really are something. We can't stay here. I'll get Charles to scout a place out, Micah said he saw one up near Dewberry Creek. When you two come back, we leave"

As they began to ride away, Wynona studied the piles of bodies all up Valentine's busy streets and thought to herself. Arthur marched up to her, grabbing her forearm and spinning her around. She looked into his big, green eyes, and was sure she saw the world in them. But she could never be sure. "What were you thinking?!" He exclaimed, out of breath and still in a panic. "You could have got yourself killed, woman!"

"You would have made it out alive" Wynona spoke feebly, "And that would have been enough for me". Embarrassed by her own words, she looked away. Arthur didn't know what to say. Nobody ever risked their life for him before. And it being Wynona LaDue made it feel so much more important. "I would have slaughtered them with my hands bound if it meant you were safe"

Arthur sighed deeply, letting his chest fall. "Don't be stupid, Wynona" he shook his head, "That ain't something I deserve"

She looked up at him with offence, "You deserve so much more than...this" She raised her voice, "Arthur, what you deserve is a bloody _life!_ " Wynona shouted, unable to comprehend how this man didn't see all he was. 

"Well I'm alive, ain't I?" He shrugged his shoulders, "And so are you". Wynona looked up at him from a metre away like he held her entire world in his two rough hands. Because in a sense he did. Wynona felt something for Arthur she had never felt, and it made her feel alive and so terribly pained at the same time. 

Wynona sighed, "We are alive, Arthur. We aren't living. Running from the law, struggling to make it by, starving. I would rather be 6 feet under than live a life like this. Every single one of us could be so much more. _You_ could be so much more" Her voice became helpless like the little girl who lost her father, her family, "I would crawl to the ends of the earth to make sure you get the life you deserve, Arthur Morgan."

"Well, I'm afraid it wouldn't be much life at all if you weren't living it too." He insisted, his face going a bright shade of red, the same red that had began to crust on Wynona's face. "Since you got here, I started to think that maybe this fight is worth fighting"

A gunshot rang out, but missed both of them, impaling itself into the wooden pillar that sat behind them. Arthur immediately pushed them both to the ground behind a barrel. There was more of them swarming in, but now there was only two of them to fight. "How are we doing this?" She asked, her panicked eyes looking up at Arthur's. He thought for a minute. "Arthur?" They began to close in, but Arthur couldn't think, and so Wynona took matters into her own hands. From her satchel she grabbed a singular stick of dynamite. 

"What are you doing?" He asked, watching as she went to light it up.

Wynona looked at him with a straight face, "What does it look like I'm doing?" The wick of the dynamite glowed orange and swiftly she launched it over their heads, landing in the centre of a group of O'Driscolls' men. They shouted and yelled and tried to run, but they hadn't enough time. After the deafening explosion rattled the ground underneath them, complete silence rung through the ears of Arthur and Wynona. "Well that was simple" Wynona sniffed, whistling on her horse. "I think we ought to get back to camp" She suggested, and Arthur agreed. 

They boarded their steeds and began to ride back, ensuring they kept their eyes out for any law or any men that might look even a little suspicious. They were in complete silence, both of them to busy thinking about the moment they had shared before they were so rudely interrupted. Wynona couldn't help but smile, and Arthur grew nervous for his romantic endeavours never did end very well. But for Morgan, this felt so much more than romantic, it was as if he had waited his entire life for somebody like her. 

***

As they reached camp, it looked desolate, with everything already been packed into the wagons. Everybody waited anxiously for Arthur and Wynona's return. Most of all, Charles, who greeted them with a concerned look on his face. He has apparently already been and scouted a place out right by the water. He approached the duo, "Are you two okay?" He asked.

"Thankfully. They just came from nowhere" Arthur explained, watching as Sean approached them wearily.He looked smug and cocky, but when did he not? Arthur wasn't in the mood. He was stressed and concerned for the groups safety. Hopefully the law wouldn't find their new spot, but he trusted Charles' intuition more than most others in the camp.

"And here I am thinking Wynona LaDue could handle herself" Laughed Macguire, always having been bad at reading situation, "I guess that's karma for robbing those bastards" He snorted and Wynona immediately groaned as she knew what was coming. Morgan turned to face her, confusion and disappointment slapped across his face like a handprint. She drew daggers at the Irishman, having once thought not mentioning the job to Arthur was an immediate given. Apparently not.

"You did what?!" Asked Arthur, disbelief in his voice, "Here I was thinking you were safe at camp when in reality you are out ransacking some innocents with the worst shot known to man!" He began to rant, "And Macguire, you are just as bad for asking her. What about Charles, or Javier?"

"I'm a good shot, Arthur Morgan. Don't take your jealousy out on me, I could tell she was bored stiff while you and your buddy here was herdin' some bloody sheep." Sean grew irritable, "and for the record, grumpy, they weren't innocent, they were a stick-up crew."

"Don't bring me into this!" John raised his hands in the air in defeat, unable to afford arguments after just risking his life so clearly. Like Wynona, he thought he was a goner. Wynona nodded at him, thanking him for not getting involved.

"Whatever, Macguire. Next time, go alone" Arthur scowled at him, and Wynona tutted loudly, feeling guilty for starting an argument. Arthur folded his arms, his muscles pressing against his burgundy fitting shirt and Wynona listened to her heart skip like clockwork. She never did like pining after somebody, but at times she just couldn't help herself.

"Arthur, I can handle myself" She insisted, "I just thought we could do with some more money, that's all" Wynona said, shrugging the row off the back of her shoulders, but Sean had other ideas.

Arthur turned to Wynona, but before he got the chance to reply Sean butted in, "You heard the woman, Arthur. She can handle herself. She doesn't need big mountain man standing over her like a shadow"

"Sean!" Wynona scolded before realising how painfully pointless this conversation was. Arthur was incredibly stubborn, and so she grabbed him arm and led him off to the wagon that they had been assigned to. As they climbed on, she handed the reigns to Arthur and quietened her voice, "It wasn't a big deal, Arthur. Really."

Arthur took the reigns, "I believe you, Wynona."

And off they went, leaving behind Horseshoe Overlook and towards their new camp, closer to home than Wynona would have wished. She looked back on it and remembered the fond memories she had acquired there. Like the night Sean had returned and they sat around the campfire. A small smile couldn't help but raise to her face, a glint in her eye as she internally said goodbye. She would miss this place.


	14. A bitter trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 43

They finished setting up camp, finally. Every post was hammered in, ever wagon was set up and every sleeping rug was placed specifically on the ground. People were in surprisingly high spirits for the close call they had just encountered a day prior. But nobody was grudging it. Dutch thought it was what they all needed seeing as morale had began to run low long before they fled.

Wynona sat on her cot, arranging her pictures and trinkets beside her bed. As she pulled the final one from her bag, she smiled fondly. Amos and herself stood smiling from ear to ear, their straight smiles and dazzling clothes now but a foreign concept to Wynona. Her eyes began to bead with tears, the fond memories of her father springing so bittersweetly to mind. She stared out across the water, letting a single tear drip down her cheek and refraining from wiping it away. The light ripples in the lake calmed her beating brain and pulsing heart and reassured her that things might be okay. That maybe they might work out. Her finger traced across Amos' face, her nostrils flaring in time with the surging pain in her shallow beating heart. 

"Wynnie?" A child's voice brought her from her daydream swiftly. She wiped the tear from her cheek in embarrassment and turned to the young boy. "Why are you crying?" She didn't know what to say and Jack, who stood timidly at the bottom of her bed, brimmed with concerned curiosity. Wynnie was the nickname he gave her, Wynona was too hard for him to say.

She patted the space beside her on the bed and tossed the photo onto the bedside cabinet. "I'm happy, that's all" Her smile made Jack grin. "Do you like the new camp?" Jack sat down next to her, his small being close to her significantly larger one. 

"The water's nice. But I preferred the old one" He stated bluntly.

Wynona huffed through her nose, amused as his harshness. "You'll grow to like it, I'm sure. Look at all that water, it's nice, no?" Jack thought for a moment before nodding his head, looking out on the setting sun that cracked an orange glow across the lake. "It's getting late. Shouldn't you be going to bed?"

Jack frowned, he looked like his father when he did so. "I'm not tired". Wynona looked at the book that Abigail had gotten her and remembered how it was her favourite book, her father having read it to her from such a young age that she could probably recite it if she wanted to. There was a certain emptiness in her chest now. Perhaps it was the impending realisation that she had to return to her home and fetch her mail, and collect some more belongings. Or perhaps she was in the next step of the grieving process. 

"Why don't I read you a story?" She asked him, "When I was your age, my father would read me this very story. I promise you will be asleep like that" Wynona snapped her fingers, and watched as Jack smiled from ear to ear. "Come here, then" She opened her arms and put her legs in a basket, forming the perfect seat for Jack to get comfortable on. As she grabbed the book from the bedside table, Jack curled up across her lap, placing his head in the crook of her arm. "Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne" Wynona began, "Chapter 1: The Journey Begins. Phileas Fogg was forty years old. He was tall, fair-haired, rich and handsome, and he lived in a pleasant house in London. Phileas rarely spoke about himself. No one knew where he came from or how he made his money. He had no family or friends. He was always polite and never showed any emotions so it was impossible to tell if he was ever angry, happy or sad." Jack focused on the words she read from the page, sometimes unable to understand her accent, but being too polite to ask, and so he let her continue. "Phileas followed the same routine every day. He got up at eight o’clock in the morning and had his tea and toast at 8.23. His butler brought him the hot water for his shave at 9.37. Everything he did had a set time: when he combed his moustache, when he brushed his hair, when he opened his letters. You could set your watch by him.At 11.30 he would leave his house and walk to his club. At the club he ate his lunch and supper, always sitting at the same table. He would read the newspapers and play cards then walk home again. He went to bed at midnight. He was never early and never late but always exactly on time." Jack's eyes began to grow droopy, but he didn't dare shut them over. "At 6.30 on the evening of Wednesday 2 October 1872, Phileas was sitting playing cards in the club with three other members. The three gentlemen were talking about a bank robbery that had taken place a few days before. The thief had stolen £55,000 – that would be worth over three million pounds today.‘With all these railways and steamships to travel on, the thief could be hundreds of miles away by now,’ said one of the gentlemen." Wynona put on a posh English accent, making Jack giggle with utter delight.

Abigail watched from across the camp, her son cradled in the arms of a woman she viewed as a godsend, and she smiled for in that moment Jack looked so utterly content. She absently continued to knit, her fond eyes not being able to look away from the situation. Abigail wondered what this gang had done to deserve such a fine creature, and what she had done to be landed here. Arthur then wandered up to her, standing above her at her tent and looking over just like Abigail. "What did we do to deserve her?" He asked, taking the thoughts from Roberts' brain and speaking them into the world. 

"‘It says here in the paper you can go right around the world in just 80 days,’ said the second. ‘Impossible,’ said the third. ‘There are too many things that could go wrong. What about storms at sea? Earthquakes? Train wrecks? Pirates?’ ‘It is not impossible,’ said Phileas quietly. ‘I bet you £20,000 I could do it. If I leave this evening on the 8.45 train to Dover, I can be back here at the Reform Club by 8.45 on Saturday 21 December. I’ll get my passport stamped at every place I stop to prove I’ve been around the world.’The three men accepted the bet and Phileas calmly finished the game before walking home. He had already worked out exactly how long he needed to get to the station to catch the train. He was not interested in winning the money or in seeing the world. He just wanted to prove he could be on time." Wynona said, continuing her story as Jack's eyes began to flutter every now and again, her own eyelids growing heavy with the coming night. Today had been a long day. "Phileas was met at the house by his new butler, Passepartout, a cheerful Frenchman with untidy hair. Passepartout had worked as an acrobat, a tightrope walker, street singer and fireman. This was his first day with Phileas and he was looking forward to a nice quiet life. Imagine his surprise when Phileas said: ‘Put a couple of my spare shirts and some socks in a bag. Be ready to leave in ten minutes. We’re going on a round-the-world trip.’ Phileas went to his safe and took out a thick stack of banknotes to put in the bag. The money would pay for tickets, food and hotel rooms on their journey. He had another £20,000 in the bank that would pay the bet if he lost. The two men locked up the house and took a hansom cab to Charing Cross station. Passepartout kept a tight grip on the bag. Their train left at 8.45 precisely. From Dover they crossed the English Channel by steamship. They travelled by train to Paris then continued down towards the Alps, through the Mont Cenis Tunnel and on to Brindisi in Italy. At Brindisi they went on board a steamship called the Mongolia, which would take them to Bombay in India." Jack's eyes shut, and his breathing became shallow. "On 9 October, a week after leaving London, they had got as far as Suez in Egypt, having travelled along the magnificent new Suez Canal. The ship had to take on more coal before continuing its journey to Aden and crossing the Indian Ocean to Bombay. Phileas gave Passepartout his passport, telling him to get it stamped at the passport office on shore. On the quayside Passepartout asked a man the way to the office.  
The man’s name was Fix. He was a British detective who had come to Suez in the hope of picking up the trail of the London bank robber. Fix looked at Phileas’ passport and read the description inside. It was exactly the same as the one he had read describing the bank robber. Fix was very excited but spoke calmly. ‘I’m afraid your master will have to go to the office himself to prove his identity. It’s not far,’ Fix said and he pointed the way. A little later, when Fix saw Phileas walk over to the office with Passepartout, he was certain he had found the robber. He could not arrest Phileas right away because he did not have the proper papers. Instead, he sent a telegram to the Chief of Police at Scotland Yard. It said: Am on the trail of the bank robber. Send a warrant for the arrest of Phileas Fogg to the Chief of Police in Bombay. Fix then bought a ticket for the Mongolia and hurried up the gangway. He would stick close to Phileas for the rest of the voyage. If all went to plan, as soon as he received the warrant he would be able to arrest Phileas and take him back to London."

She finished the first chapter, taking a mental note to read the rest to him some day, but being unsure when she would have the chance. The book fell from her falling hand and onto the grass below, her eyes shutting over and sleep beginning to drift in. Sleep became her and Jack and they lay there, completely out for the count. 

Arthur approached them, a small smile creeping its way onto his face. He crouched down and picked up the book from the ground before dusting it off and placing it on the table. He took Wynona's hand on the way back up, feeling the warmth of her soft skin against his. Her fingers dainty and somehow so guilty of crimes she could never wash off. The palms that Arthur held had taken lives and got revenge, and the veins he traced were fuelled by the concept of more. From the bottom of her cot he grabbed the quilt Wynona would often cover her legs with when it got colder at night and he threw it over the both of them, ensuring Jack was entirely covered. For a moment he stood at the bottom of her bed, watching her chest rise and fall with the slow beat of her heart. Her head fell to the side of her shoulder, succumbing to sleep entirely. 

"I ain't sure whether to be creeped out for her or not" John stood by his side, looking down at his child who's face was still. "You know, I can't help but feel so damn sorry for her" He noted, placing his chin in his hand and leaning against the pole of her wagon tent. "There ain't no need for a girl that young to be that deadly unless her life depends on it" 

Arthur hummed in dismal agreement, "We sure are lucky to have her"

"You can say that again. Dutch said he ain't ever seen such a woman. I wouldn't get on the wrong side of her..." John trailed off, but left the sentence hanging. "Not that you have to worry about that" He chuckled, unable to refrain from poking fun at Wynona and Arthur's situation. "After all, on top ain't a side"

Arthur turned to him in offence, punching his shoulder, "John Marston you better shut that mouth before I shut it for you" He growled at his friend who sniggered in glee at Arthur's reaction. There was a tense silence in the air as they travelled to the round table that was stained with coffee and blood from late-night games of five finger fillet. John took a swig of whisky from his cup, looking over at the sleeping duo.

"I don't even know what you are waiting for" He said, hiccuping slightly, "Just, I don't know, run off and marry her or something"

Arthur chuckled, not realising how serious John was being in the moment. "You know I would never leave this gang, John" Morgan looked at his hands, "And I ain't ever had good luck with love"

"You can't stay here forever. You're gonna have to leave some day"

 

***

Wynona peeled her eyes open, the morning sun waking her up obnoxiously like a slap to the face. Jack was no longer in her arms, but she was still propped up in the same position she was hours before. Most other people were already awake, and then returned that little feeling of guilt that came with being unable to pull her weight. She sat up fully, watching Hosea shout at Sean for sitting doing nothing and Susan giving Arthur a hard time for not donating enough. Soon enough, she remembered that she had to go to her house today, and that would need a lot of mental preparation. But she stretched out of bed in a positive mood, trying to get in the mindset for today. 

She pulled on her notorious puffy red shirt, pulling the sleeves high up her arm before quickly changing into her black trousers before anybody got the chance to see her. Her long locks flowed down her back, looking larger and less tamed than the norm. Wynona remembered she had a small bag with a few pieces of makeup that she had bought for her fathers birthday. As she unclipped the clasp, the smell of perfume flooded her nostrils, and she missed the days were she would make the most effort she could. But the most Wynona could do right now was try.

After she was finished getting ready, she realised that going to that house wasn't something she wanted. Her eyes fell on Arthur, who was deep in riveting conversation with Charles, John listening on from the sidelines. As she traipsed over, Dutch caught her attention. "Where you off too, kid?" he asked. Dutch placed his ringed hands on his belt, his feet shoulder width apart and Wynona realised that was a trend amongst the men of camp. 

"I'm going to take a ride up to my old house and pick up some belongings, if they haven't been stolen already, that is" Wynona explained, looking over at the trio who sat around the campfire, John now involved in whatever they were talking enthusiastically about. 

"Okay, dear. Have fun" He patted her shoulder, clearly in a better mood than he was. Coming to Clemens point was truly a blessing in disguise as curse. It was so much more convenient, with the water only metres away from the washbasin. Not that a washbasin was needed anymore. Wynona wanted to go a swim at some point, because the open vast of water was so clear you could always see the bottom. Wynona continued over to Arthur, Charles and John, who's voices began to raise and distract others around the camp,

"Are you men busy?" She asked, distracting them all immediately. They shook their head and for a moment Wynona was almost sad that they weren't. She had dreaded this day since she joined the gang. "Would you mind giving me a hand with something?"

"Sure. What's up?" Asked Charles, looking up at her from his seat. She didn't want to explain right now, so she motioned for them to follow her to the horses. Arthur walked beside her, keeping her close when Micah and Bill were around. He didn't trust those two, not one bit. They climbed onto their steeds, Wynona leading the way out of camp but sticking close to where she knew the waterline was. That would take them there. It was mainly silent until they got out of camp when Wynona slowed down and began to explain what she needed them for.

"I haven't been to my house since my father's passing." She shouted to John and Charles who rode behind Wynona and Arthur. "And going alone isn't something I'm entirely keen on" Explained she. 

"I didn't think I'd ever be an emotional support" John chuckled and Wynona couldn't help but laugh also. 

"I mean no offence, John.." She began, "But I think a sack of shit would provide more emotional support". Arthur cackled, and Charles smirked.

"Hey!" Exclaimed John, "I'm actually a very thoughtful person" He noted matter-of-factly, feigning offence. Wynona didn't fall for it and Arthur still sat on his horse laughing to himself. "I don't know why you're laughing, Morgan, it's not as if your any better"

Wynona looked back at John momentarily, "Don't be too thoughtful now, John, we don't know how that might end" She winked, letting herself become comfortable bantering with her small group of friends. John cleared his throat, unable to hold back a small, defeated grin. 

"Oh you’re very funny, LaDue.” He smiled, “very funny indeed.” 

“It’s just up here”, the smile fell from her face, the eerie atmosphere in the air around these parts growing to be something she would detest. “My father helped build it, but I can’t say he done an awful lot” she smiled and through the trees they broke. 

A long path in a straight line surrounded by spindling dark trees that cast dismal shadows across the beaten grey track stood before, wide enough to fit a horse and carriage should she ever need to. But what sat at the other end of the path was much more impressing. A mansion, verging on something of a palace, stood in all its abandoned glory. 

“You lived here?” Asked Charles, amazement in his voice as they trotted down the long road. The trees that enclosed the house until it reached the water kept the home well hidden from anybody that may have wanted to intrude. It didn’t seem like anybody had. 

“I sure did”

“On your own?” Arthur continued the quiz as they reached the end of the road, the house standing outrageously tall. 

“Yeah” 

John sighed in awe, the architecture of the house so carefully planned out that every column and balcony railing send his mind spinning. There were 3 official floors, and around the perimeter of the 2nd was a massive balcony, covered by the roof of the 3rd floor. She remembered the days she would eat, or write, or sit on the small table and chairs that sat there. 

But as they thought the coast was clear, 3 men came around from the back garden looking for a way in, yet to see them. Wynona’s stomach dropped, and her eyebrows knitted together like a crochet hook. 

“Hey!” She shouted, storming up to them as they began to barge into the door with their shoulder. They turned around and time slowed down, the trio reaching for their guns in half time. 

“You oughta’ get outta’ here missus, we found this one first” one of them spoke in a heavy Yankee accent, not that that came of any surprise to her. 

Wining cocked her head, feeling the guns on her with such heaviness. “This is my home. So I suggest you leave now, before I kill every single one of you Yankee bastards” she spat. 

“Prove it” they sneered, their guns twitching in their hands. Wynona faked a defeated sigh and turned on her feet, facing the three men she dragged along with her. 

“It was worth a shot” she rolled her eyes, beginning to walk away, much to the delight of the men who were trying to break in. But as they dropped their guard whilst they walked away, Wynona turned on her heels once more, drawing her duel-wield pistols from her holsters and going along the line, sending a bullet through the skull of each of them, a parting gift per se. “Scum” she hissed, watching them fall to the ground one by one like dominoes. “Come on, I just need to grab a few things” 

She grabbed the key from her necklace and pushed it into the door, dreading what would be on the other side. But nothing had changed, only the dust began to settle. On the entrance to the house was marble flooring that lined every crevice of the house. A massive staircase that split into two sat in front of them, winding up to the second floor. A door to the left lead to the lounge, which is where they went. Covered in family photos and expensive ornaments, the lounge was the largest room in the house. Leather sofas sat in front of the large fireplace where a fire would often blaze to heat up the house. 

“Goddamn” cursed Arthur, taking a look up at the wooden-beamed roof. He hadn’t ever been in such a home. 

“Arthur, I need a hand” she motioned for him to follow her up the large stairs. As they trailed up, their heels clicking on the marble flooring, they stayed in silence. Arthur was too speechless to engage in conversation. “This way” Wynona led him down the first long hallway to a lavish room at the front of the house. “I just need some things from my bedroom” 

As they stepped in, Arthur wasn’t sure whether to be jealous of her or not for the four poster bed that sat in the centre of the space looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. On the far left side of the room sat two doors and Wynona opened one of them to reveal a large wardrobe, completely filled with expensive clothes and shoes and the like. The other door housed a large en-suite bathroom that had seldom been used. 

She picked up the things she needed, throwing them into a bag, and then stood in the centre of her room, Morgan by her side. “Thank you, Arthur. For helping me out today.” She looked out the window that had been slightly ajar this whole time, blowing the silk curtains into the room and sending a chill throughout the whole house. She quickly forced them shut to stop distractions. But she still refused to face Arthur. “This house...it’s like a walking memorial of the person I was” 

They went down the stairs and Charles and Javier sat by the front door. “Take a look around if you wish, if you see anything of use please feel free to take it” she pointed to the three men who had came along with her. 

“Where are you going?” Asked Charles. 

“Just the back garden, is all”. She had her suspicions about what might lay in her back garden, but she had to confirm them to let herself feel pain. Before they got the chance to quiz her further, she left, heading towards the large double back doors. 

The back garden was vast, the water rippling slightly against its muddy borders. But the gazebo lay there still, surrounded by trees and looking out upon the water. The same one that their new camp looked out upon. The grass had become overgrown, now reached her mid-calves. The trees that kept the house well hidden had become distorted in their old age, but perhaps she didn’t mind. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the one place her suspicions told her to look. The massive tree in the centre of the garden that Amos and her would sit under and lunch. 

And there it was. 

Her heart dropped along with every organ and rational thought in her body. With her legs no more than wet shirts, sloppy and unsteady, she dragged herself over to the tree. A hand reached into her chest, their fingers going through her bones, and squeezed her still heart. As she reached it, she stared upon the dismal piece of stone that had been stuck into the ground. 

“I’m sorry...” she whispered, her voice cracking harshly and the tears stinging her eyes and nose. “I’m so sorry..” 

Amos LaDue  
A father, husband and friend  
May he watch over us

Without realising, a choked sob left her throat and she instantly let her hand fly to her mouth to stifle any more. Her shoulders bounced in pain, her knees hit the ground. Her fingers traced the sloppily carved writing of the tombstone as she cried. Stupid did she feel for how vulnerable she looked. Her back hunched over the tombstone, leaned on it for physical and emotion support. “I will find who done this, father” she wept into the cold stone and she almost heard him talking back. Saying this was the wrong thing to do, he always did say revenge was a fools game. But she didn’t care. 

“Wynona?” A voice from behind her startled her, but she was past minding. She continued to cry into his tombstone like the remnants of his shoulder which she sobbed into one too many times. “Are you okay?” She knew it was Arthur, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn and look at him. 

“I failed you..” she began, “and for that I am sorry..I could not have asked for a better father” Wynona cried desperately, trying to control her breaths, “or a better friend”. Arthur swallowed tightly, a slight lump forming in his throat but he didn’t know if it was out of sadness or shock that she continued to cry so freely here. “I miss you so much”. There was a silence as Wynona dragged herself to her feet, still crying with her hands covering her weeping features. Arthur couldn’t bear to see her like this. 

“Come here” he spoke solemnly, taking a few steps towards her. Usually she would have turned her back, but this time she let it happen. His muscular arms wrapped around her, engulfing her in his own homely warmth. His chin rest on the top of her head, her own head buried into his chest. “It’s okay..” he whispered into her ear as she cried, “you’re okay...I’ve got you”. Hearing these words calmed her slightly, but she didn’t want to let go of Arthur, not quite yet. And so she slithered her arms around his waist, holding on to him for dear life. Arthur’s hand went to the back of Wynona’s head, playing with her hair to calm her down, whilst pushing her face into his chest even further. 

As she continued to weep, Charles and Javier appeared at the back door, unsure of what to do. Charles looked concerned, but almost relieved that she finally was letting herself hurt. Arthur motioned for them to go back to camp, and they followed his instructions and swiftly left. 

Her crying get faint, and after about 5 minutes of being in each other’s arms, they pulled away. Wynona looked up at Arthur with red rimmed eyes, filled with so much pain yet holding his entire world. His thumb grazed over her cheek, wiping away the tear that fell down her soft cheek. She sniffed lightly, grabbing his hand and holding Arthur’s palm to her face. Silence arrived, and as did a different pain in Wynona’s heart. But this was longing. 

“I’m so sorry, kid” Arthur spoke down to her with a pain in his eyes she couldn’t quite figure out. “It’ll get better. I swear it will” his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of her eyes droop in pain. “You just gotta it out. But for the meantime, the gang’ll be here” 

“I would give the world to say goodbye to him, Arthur” Wynona finally croaked, her voice scratchy from the pent up emotions finally being released. 

Arthur sighed, “I know, darlin’. I know” he frowned miserably, always being bad at comforting others. But little did he know his presence was all Wynona needed. “Just give it time.”

“There’s no point.”

“No point in what?” Arthur knitted his eyebrows. 

Wynona looked away, “In this. I have nobody. Not really. Sometimes I think I’d be better off d-..”

“You have me. No matter what happens, Wynona. You will always have me. This world could go up in flames and I’ll still be by your side”

" 


	15. A long awaited event

Arthur and Wynona rode into camp. Micah and Dutch talking through something enthusiastically by Dutch’s tent. Micah was trying to talk him into something, they could hear the tone of his voice. Wynona didn’t care, she loathed Micah either way.

 

Arthur and herself parted ways, Wynona going to talk to Charles and John while Morgan interjected Dutch and Micha’s debate. She sat down on the log beside the campfire.

 

“Wynona” John smiled sheepishly towards her, as did Charles. She instantly regretted coming. They had saw what happened back there. And it was nothing she was proud of. “How are you?” She pulled a stick up off the ground, shutting one eye and beginning to sharpen it to a point with her pocket knife.

 

“Good as can be..” she answered bluntly, not in the best of moods. Her shoulders hunched. Charles and John shared a look, they hadn’t seen her like this. If looks could kill, they would be 6 feet under. She stared up at the sky, the stars were out now.

 

“I saw that guy hanging around again...” began John, and Wynona’s stomach instantly dropped. The same man who had been hanging around at Horseshoe Overlook. “I think he might be following us”

 

“What did you say he looked like again?” Asked Charles, placing his arrow down next to the fire and looking at Marston intently.

 

John thought for a moment, “Tanned guy, not from around here. Black, curly hair” he recited and Wynona stood up, thinking that if she didn’t have to think about it, it wouldn’t be true. She traipsed over to the wooden dock that stuck out over the water that stood just outside the perimeter of tents around camp.

 

The water was always peaceful at this time of night, not daring to wave and waken the fish. The boards began to creak underneath her, wood rot probably. There was something enchanting about being around water at night. On the end of the dock she sat, her feet not quite touching the surface of the water. A large sigh escaped her mouth.

 

She heard the same creaking of the boards follow her down, but the long, strong strides told her it was Arthur Morgan. Her mind instantly travelled to earlier today, how he held her close and stroked the back of her head and her heart skipped a beat.

 

“Aren’t you going to sit?” She asked, not turning to face him. His presence from behind her making her uneasy.

 

He sat down beside her, “how did you know it was me?”

 

Wynona smirked to herself, if only he knew how she felt. How utterly in complete adoration she was. Perhaps it was love. “Can’t all friends recognise each other’s footsteps”. It pained Wynona to use that word, because she didn’t feel like friends. She didn’t want to be friends either.

 

“Friends” Arthur said on an exhale, sounding tired of the word. “Is that all we are?” He asked, making Wynona’s palms sweat nerves. What a fool she was.

 

“I’m not sure what you mean” Wynona struggled to get the words out, her heart beat a hundred miles a minute.

 

Arthur sighed, “yes you do” he began, “we both know what I mean”. There was a silence for a minute or two whilst Wynona deliberated over what to say.

 

“Well what shall we do about it?” She breathed audibly, trying to calm her nerves through her pursed lips. Wynona turned her head so her chin rested on her shoulder, a small smirk on her lips. Arthur looked at her, her unique features that combined to make an enchanting face.

 

Arthur reaches across, placing a palm on her cheek and using his thumb to stroke her cheekbone. Their thighs were already touching, the warmth they both radiated being enough to stave away the cool of the night. “What this is...I can’t ignore it any longer” he began his speech, “it’ll probably drive me crazy” a small smile cocked his lips upwards. Their lips lingered inches apart, but Wynona let him finish. “But I don’t want to let it all go to waste.”

 

Wynona laughed sheepishly at his declaration, the aching in her heart something she couldn’t put to the back of her mind. She became choked up, a lump forming in her throat. “Sorry, I thought I let it all out earlier” Wynona tried to laugh it off, “Oh, Arthur”, Arthur thought this was her way of turning him down and looking away in embarrassment, “You are the best man I’ve ever met. Ever since the day I met you, you made me feel okay again. Like everything else didn’t matter. But...” she looked to their hands, “I’m afraid that if something happened to you, that would be on me.”

 

There was a silence and Arthur shook his head, going to stand up forcefully. “Who am I kidding?” He began, “You deserve better than this”

 

“No, Arthur, stay” she panicked, trying to convince him that she was so head over heels with him that nothing he ever said or did would matter.

 

“I ain’t nothing more than a no-good outlaw” He began to walk away and Wynona stood up soon thereafter, “I am a fool”

 

“Oh, Arthur, I love you!” She exclaimed, grabbing his wrist to stop him from storming away. The words felt foreign, like they weren’t her own, but she liked the way they made her heart skip. She breathed heavily, pressing her lips into a thin line in embarrassment, the flush that came to her face burning a hole through the wood they stood on. “The night of Sean’s party. That’s when I realised. But then I saw that letter from Mary and...” Arthur looked embarrassed too, “I guess I just lost hope” she shrugged, “Folk like you...don’t fall for people like me”

 

Arthur took two swift steps towards her and engulfed her within himself, hunching his back and placing his mouth to hers with force to almost knock them both into the water. But they both steadied, feeling what could have been the death of them erupt within their veins, melting into one another bodied, mixing like a cocktail. This was all Wynona could have wished for and more.Arthur’s hands travelling to either cheek, and Wynona grabbing a fistful of his coat, they stood their for a minute, revelling in all of the missed kisses that they were both to scared to take advantage of. Arthur was the first to pull away, resting his forehead against his, grinning like an idiot.

 

From up at camp, Charles and John sat at the campfire still, looking down at the silhouette of Wynona and Arthur. They could hear them if they listened close enough. Charles couldn’t help but smile, John couldn’t wait to tease Arthur like he would when they were children. “Took them long enough” John chuckled


	16. A guest

Wynona washed her face in the barrel of water that sat beside her tent. As per usual she was one of the last ones to wake up, but she decided to go hunting today, as Pearson had been getting on at Arthur for lacking recently and Wynona got the feeling that he blamed her for distracting him.

 

Arthur, Dutch and Micah sat in Dutch’s tent discussing an apparent truce that Wynona was yet to be told about, but she went with it. Her stomach churned when she laid eyes upon Arthur, the his stubble growing a little bit thicker than usual. She felt like a little girl with a teenage crush, like a fool, but she didn’t mind. Arthur was yet to see her.

 

“Pearson” Wynona whistled, appearing at his work table with a grin plastered across her face. He looked up at her sceptically, humming a sound of ‘what do you want?’ “I’m going hunting today, I’ll be passing town on the way, do you want anything brought back?”

 

Pearson raised an eyebrow, “Some beans and vegetables wouldn’t go a miss” he listed, chopping the head from a chicken they had found dead this morning. “And while you are there, can you post this letter for me?” He handed over a letter, messily scrawled an address.

 

“Tacitus Kilgore?” She asked.

 

“Hosea’s idea, less conspicuous” Pearson explained bluntly, going back to his work, giving her the subtle hint that he didn’t want to talk. “Before dinnertime would be great, Miss LaDue”

 

“Yes. Of course”. As she climbed upon Apollo, Arthur approached her, asking her where she was off to so early in the morning.“I’m away hunting, but I shan’t be long.” Wynona explained, “don’t miss me too much” she winked at him, leaving him smirking in her dust as she road out of camp toward Caliga Hall, she knew there was a good spot near there where the deer congregated in the forest surrounding. As much as she loved Arthur and his company, there was something refreshing about loneliness.

 

As she reached the forest, she drew her bow, something she had been using more since being in Charles’ company. She loved Charles, in the platonic way, and appreciated the way he treat her. Like one of the gang, which now she was.

 

She crawled through the trees, keeping low and silent. A single deer would be plenty for a couple of nights at least, until she would go out and gather more meat. The sun cracked through the trees, sending uneven stripes of heat into the centre clearing. Only one deer could be seen so far. She readied her bow, taking a deep breath and then emptying her lungs, shooting once the last ounce of breath had left her mouth.

 

Wynona dragged the deer through the woods, stowing it on Apollo before beginning the short ride into Rhodes, a place she hadn’t spent a lot of time since arriving at Clemens point a few days ago. She felt self conscious, the people here even less accepting of outsiders than they were in Valentine, but she carried on.

 

Hitching Apollo outside of the general store, she grabbed her coin purse, her fingers fluttering across the letter she had kept well hidden from the rest of the gang. The shopkeeper looked at her with worry, worry that she might steal something. But she wasn’t any petty thief. Trains and Banks were more of her taste now that revenge was something that she found pleasure in. She picked up some fresh vegetables, the best and biggest ones they had, just to please Pearson. Not that his approval was something she sought after. And some beans.

 

“That’ll be a dollar-ninety-seven” the shopkeeper spoke like some sort of machine, his voice monotone and deep. She handed over the exact change and left the store with her paper bag fastened in her left hand.

 

On her way out of town, she went into the post office and mailed the letter Pearson had given her. She always did wonder who he wrote to, but reading other people’s letter wasn’t something she thought fondly of. For some reason it was out of bounds.

 

She reached camp, everybody going about their daily chores, and lifted the deer from the back of her horse. It was heavy, and no doubt filling.

 

“Miss LaDue...” Pearson began, “finally, you’ve returned”

 

“Well, Pearson, you know what they say” she threw it down on the table with a bang, making the butchers knives rattle, “better late than never” next she handed over the bag of groceries. “I posted your letter”

 

He smiled at her weakly, “thank you”

 

“Somebody had to d-..” she began, but from the corner of her eye she saw a horse enter camp with an all too familiar man on top of it. Her stomach dropped, her blood began to boil. But the others were yet to see him. A smug smirk was painted on his sly face. Wynona stormed over, pulling the pistol from her holster and raising it high into the air, letting it fall at his head as his feet touched the ground. The anger inside her prevented her brain producing English words, “Je vous suggère de partir tout de suite avant d'envoyer une balle dans votre crâne!” She shouted, alerting others to the man’s presence. John knew the man too.

 

“Hey, that’s him! That man that’s been lingering around here like a bad smell” he pointed out, looking at the man’s face up close and personal. Nobody else pulled their guns, Wynona had this under control.

 

The man pressed his lips into a thin line, “you never were very nice, were you, Wynona? You must take it after dad” He asked, cocking his head to the side with a grin. The crowd fell silent all of a sudden.

 

“I thought you didn’t have any other family” Charles noted, but Wynona didn’t listen.

 

Wynona’s hand trembled with anger, “tais-toi! ferme la gueule! Si vous ne remontez pas sur ce cheval et ne partez pas d'ici tout de suite, je jure que je vais te tuer!” She screamed, her voice filled with pain and fury. “il n'était pas ton père. Il vous en voulait. et comme moi” her voice was quieter this time.

 

“Wynona...” Arthur’s voice was inquisitive, unable to understand the words she was speaking to angrily. He was concerned. Wynona turned to him, crumbling under his confused gaze.

 

“Oh, she hasn’t told you?” Asked the man, but Wynona was having none of it.

 

She thrust the barrel of the gun towards his head even further, “shut up before I shut you up” Wynona warned, before sighing deeply and shutting her eyes softly. This explanation was for Arthur, nobody else. “When we moved here, my mother had an affair with some ugly bootlegger from Saint Denis” she began, not caring who she offended, “He stayed with his father in Saint Denis until my mother passed, which is when he became intent on stealing all his money.” She turned to Andre, “The money he won’t be putting one of his greasy fingers on until I’m 6 feet under”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind” he pressed a finger to his lips, staring Arthur up and down, “that reminds me, I bumped into...what was his name?” He thought for a moment, “that man you used to sleep with...Edward Thomas I think his name was. He’s asking for you”. Arthur pulled his gun, sick of Andre’s presence. Andre chuckled heartily, looking him up and down with a grin. “He’s not your type, is he, Winnie?”

 

The name that came from his mouth made her lip twitch with rage. “You don’t get to call me that you pathetic delinquent” she spat.

 

“Does he?” He nodded towards Arthur, “Do you let him believe you love him too?” He continued, and Arthur’s jaw clenched, “or is that only for the ones you’ve slept with?” There was complete silence, that not even the sharpest of knives could cut, “you’re so pathetic, Wynona. Father would be so disappointed”

 

Wynona used her pistol to bash his nose with such force that he fell backwards to the ground. She grabbed a fistful of his pretentious white shirt that blood began to spill on to as she stood over him. “Call him your father one more time...I dare you” she hissed at him, but he stayed silent in shock, “that’s what I thought. Now get on the prize pony of yours and ride into the sunset with the reassurance of that money never, ever being yours before I use it to buy you a nice brown box”

 

He climbed on to his horse with hatred spewing from him, “You haven’t heard the last of me”


	17. A rescue mission

Wynona washed her face in the barrel of water that sat beside her tent. As per usual she was one of the last ones to wake up, but she decided to go hunting today, as Pearson had been getting on at Arthur for lacking recently and Wynona got the feeling that he blamed her for distracting him.

 

Arthur, Dutch and Micah sat in Dutch’s tent discussing an apparent truce that Wynona was yet to be told about, but she went with it. Her stomach churned when she laid eyes upon Arthur, the his stubble growing a little bit thicker than usual. She felt like a little girl with a teenage crush, like a fool, but she didn’t mind. Arthur was yet to see her.

 

“Pearson” Wynona whistled, appearing at his work table with a grin plastered across her face. He looked up at her sceptically, humming a sound of ‘what do you want?’ “I’m going hunting today, I’ll be passing town on the way, do you want anything brought back?”

 

Pearson raised an eyebrow, “Some beans and vegetables wouldn’t go a miss” he listed, chopping the head from a chicken they had found dead this morning. “And while you are there, can you post this letter for me?” He handed over a letter, messily scrawled an address.

 

“Tacitus Kilgore?” She asked.

 

“Hosea’s idea, less conspicuous” Pearson explained bluntly, going back to his work, giving her the subtle hint that he didn’t want to talk. “Before dinnertime would be great, Miss LaDue”

 

“Yes. Of course”. As she climbed upon Apollo, Arthur approached her, asking her where she was off to so early in the morning.“I’m away hunting, but I shan’t be long.” Wynona explained, “don’t miss me too much” she winked at him, leaving him smirking in her dust as she road out of camp toward Caliga Hall, she knew there was a good spot near there where the deer congregated in the forest surrounding. As much as she loved Arthur and his company, there was something refreshing about loneliness.

 

As she reached the forest, she drew her bow, something she had been using more since being in Charles’ company. She loved Charles, in the platonic way, and appreciated the way he treat her. Like one of the gang, which now she was.

 

She crawled through the trees, keeping low and silent. A single deer would be plenty for a couple of nights at least, until she would go out and gather more meat. The sun cracked through the trees, sending uneven stripes of heat into the centre clearing. Only one deer could be seen so far. She readied her bow, taking a deep breath and then emptying her lungs, shooting once the last ounce of breath had left her mouth.

 

Wynona dragged the deer through the woods, stowing it on Apollo before beginning the short ride into Rhodes, a place she hadn’t spent a lot of time since arriving at Clemens point a few days ago. She felt self conscious, the people here even less accepting of outsiders than they were in Valentine, but she carried on.

 

Hitching Apollo outside of the general store, she grabbed her coin purse, her fingers fluttering across the letter she had kept well hidden from the rest of the gang. The shopkeeper looked at her with worry, worry that she might steal something. But she wasn’t any petty thief. Trains and Banks were more of her taste now that revenge was something that she found pleasure in. She picked up some fresh vegetables, the best and biggest ones they had, just to please Pearson. Not that his approval was something she sought after. And some beans.

 

“That’ll be a dollar-ninety-seven” the shopkeeper spoke like some sort of machine, his voice monotone and deep. She handed over the exact change and left the store with her paper bag fastened in her left hand.

 

On her way out of town, she went into the post office and mailed the letter Pearson had given her. She always did wonder who he wrote to, but reading other people’s letter wasn’t something she thought fondly of. For some reason it was out of bounds.

 

She reached camp, everybody going about their daily chores, and lifted the deer from the back of her horse. It was heavy, and no doubt filling.

 

“Miss LaDue...” Pearson began, “finally, you’ve returned”

 

“Well, Pearson, you know what they say” she threw it down on the table with a bang, making the butchers knives rattle, “better late than never” next she handed over the bag of groceries. “I posted your letter”

 

He smiled at her weakly, “thank you”

 

“Somebody had to d-..” she began, but from the corner of her eye she saw a horse enter camp with an all too familiar man on top of it. Her stomach dropped, her blood began to boil. But the others were yet to see him. A smug smirk was painted on his sly face. Wynona stormed over, pulling the pistol from her holster and raising it high into the air, letting it fall at his head as his feet touched the ground. The anger inside her prevented her brain producing English words, “Je vous suggère de partir tout de suite avant d'envoyer une balle dans votre crâne!” She shouted, alerting others to the man’s presence. John knew the man too.

 

“Hey, that’s him! That man that’s been lingering around here like a bad smell” he pointed out, looking at the man’s face up close and personal. Nobody else pulled their guns, Wynona had this under control.

 

The man pressed his lips into a thin line, “you never were very nice, were you, Wynona? You must take it after dad” He asked, cocking his head to the side with a grin. The crowd fell silent all of a sudden.

 

“I thought you didn’t have any other family” Charles noted, but Wynona didn’t listen. Dutch, Charles, Arthur, Javier, John and Hosea stood behind her, expectations high. How could she explain this?

 

Wynona’s hand trembled with anger, “tais-toi! ferme la gueule! Si vous ne remontez pas sur ce cheval et ne partez pas d'ici tout de suite, je jure que je vais te tuer!” She screamed, her voice filled with pain and fury. “il n'était pas ton père. Il vous en voulait. et comme moi” her voice was quieter this time.

 

“Wynona...” Arthur’s voice was inquisitive, unable to understand the words she was speaking to angrily. He was concerned. Wynona turned to him, crumbling under his confused gaze.

 

“Oh, she hasn’t told you?” Asked the man, but Wynona was having none of it.

 

She thrust the barrel of the gun towards his head even further, “shut up before I shut you up” Wynona warned, before sighing deeply and shutting her eyes softly. This explanation was for Arthur, nobody else. “When we moved here, my mother had an affair with some ugly bootlegger from Saint Denis” she began, not caring who she offended, “He stayed with his father in Saint Denis until my mother passed, which is when he became intent on stealing all my fathers money.” She turned to Andre, “The money he won’t be putting one of his greasy fingers on until I’m 6 feet under”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind” he pressed a finger to his lips, staring Arthur up and down, “that reminds me, I bumped into...what was his name?” He thought for a moment, “that man you used to sleep with...Edward Thomas I think his name was. He’s asking for you”. Arthur pulled his gun, sick of Andre’s presence. Andre chuckled heartily, looking him up and down with a grin. “He’s not your type, is he, Winnie?”

 

The name that came from his mouth made her lip twitch with rage. “You don’t get to call me that you pathetic delinquent” she spat.

 

“Does he?” He nodded towards Arthur, “Do you let him believe you love him too?” He continued, and Arthur’s jaw clenched, “or is that only for the ones you’ve slept with?” There was complete silence, that not even the sharpest of knives could cut, “you’re so pathetic, Wynona. Father would be so disappointed”

 

Wynona used her pistol to bash his nose with such force that he fell backwards to the ground. She grabbed a fistful of his pretentious white shirt that blood began to spill on to as she stood over him. “Call him your father one more time...I dare you” she hissed at him, but he stayed silent in shock, “that’s what I thought. Now get on the prize pony of yours and ride into the sunset with the reassurance of that money never, ever being yours before I use it to buy you a nice brown box”

 

He climbed on to his horse with hatred spewing from him, “You haven’t heard the last of me”. They watched him ride off, through the trees and towards Saint Denis where he presumably stayed.

 

“Oh, trust me, I have!” She shouted after him, anger still coursing through her veins. She turned to the gaze from the men who stood behind her. Dutch seemed angry.

 

“You should have told us!” He exclaimed, raising his hand out into thin air. “Don’t you trust us?”

 

She sighed deeply, “of course I trust you” she said, but looked at Arthur who seemed disappointed in her. “I’m sorry”

 

“People make mistakes, Wynona” Hosea butted in, “but tell us next time” he smiled weakly, “I have no doubt you could have dealt with him”

 

***

 

Micah, Dutch and Arthur had went out to form a truce with somebody, but nobody knew who. Not even Charles. She grew concerned that it was only the three of them, but she decided to not go seeing how Arthur was with her earlier. She hoped she hadn’t messed things up.

 

“How long do you think they will be?” She asked John and Charles, the only two friends she had in this camp in seemed. Wynona didn’t trust Micah, not one bit.

 

“They’ve been gone for less than an hour, Wynona” John grinned, “...but not long, I don’t think. I don’t even know what they are doing”

 

****

 

Arthur waited up on the hill, looking through his sniper down to Colm O’Driscoll and Dutch, who spoke for a minute or two. Something felt off, there wasn’t any way Colm would agree to this without something else being at risk. But then he heard the footsteps crunching on the dry grass behind him, but when he turned around and dropped the sniper it was too late.

 

The man who came from behind him used his rifle to send one blow to his head that knocked him out for the count. His rifle fell from the cliff he once lay on, now being dragged away and on to a horse.

 

He woke up, his head splitting, his vision barely there. But as his eyes fluttered open, he didn’t recognise where he was and his mind immediately went to one thing. Wynona.

 

They spoke at the camp he lay in, not realising he was now awake. Even if barely. Using his feet, Arthur pushed his body away, slowly and quietly. His bones ached as he tried to pull himself up, but as he tried to run, they burned even further. For a moment he thought he was getting away through the woods, and even if he had nowhere to go, he would be away from danger.

 

“Hey! He’s getting away!” Somebody shouted, and footsteps soon caught up with him. Arms wrapped tightly around his waist, throwing him to the ground below. He grunted loudly as he impacted the dirt below. “Thought you were getting away, huh?” The O’Driscoll asked, pulling out a shotgun and holding it to his flesh. “It’s okay boys, I’ll deal with him” he laughed manically before pulling the trigger, sending a bullet tearing through his skin. His eyes shut with the bang.

 

***

 

Dutch and Micah rode into camp, but Arthur wasn’t there. Wynona stood up, knowing their faces instantly screamed ‘something is wrong’

 

“where’s Arthur?” She quizzed them, knowing whatever has happened wasn’t good.

 

Dutch climbed from his horse, “they got him” was all that he said, with a sigh

 

Wynona’s heart lurched so desperately she felt it leave her body. “Who got him?”

 

Dutch seemed hurt by the prospect of Arthur not being safe, but they didn’t know where they took him. “The O’Driscolls. We don’t know how it happened but they got him”

 

“And you just left?” Wynona asked, the pain in her chest forcing out a disappointed laugh, “He could be dead!” She raised her voice, becoming distressed by the second, “I’m going to look for him” Wynona grabbed her guns, fitting then on over her body.

 

“Wynona, no” Dutch began, “You could get killed!” He tried to stop her from walking by him, but she only froze in her steps.

 

“Well somebody has to find him and it seems it’s not going to be you” she spat at Dutch, unable to comprehend how angry she was at him.

 

“Wynona, wait” Charles and John stopped her by the shoulders, “You aren’t going alone” they took with their heads high, defying Dutch’s strong instructions. They barged past him, towards their horses.

 

“I’m coming back here with Arthur Morgan” she pointed down to Dutch from her horse, “Whatever it costs”. She meant her own life, Dutch knew what she meant.

 

Wynona, Charles and John rode furiously towards the scene of the crime, where they might be able to pick up some tracks as to where they took him.

 

At the bottom of the cliff, a gun sat, damaged, but not completely broke. She picked it up, her eyes glazing over. He could still be okay. “This is Arthur’s” she told Charles and John, and they stood in silence.

 

“It must have fell, let’s check the top of the cliff” Charles instructed, and they did.

 

They reached the tip of the cliff, the imprints of the tip of Arthur’s shoes in the grass below them. It was getting dark, and it was hard to see, but Wynona wasn’t resting until Arthur was found.

 

“Hoof prints, this way” Charles noted, he was the best at this sort of stuff. They rode in the direction of the trail for at least ten minutes until they reached a small forest. “The trail ends here” he spoke quietly upon hearing more voices, but they knew this wasn’t their destination. Not quite. Wynona drew her guns, reaching the clearing and aiming them towards the few men who sat around a table.

 

“You don’t happen to know where they took Arthur Morgan?” She asked, all of the men instantly turning in their seats, but they weren’t fast enough to reach for their guns.

 

“Why would we tell you?” One of them laughed, and so she decided to go around this the hard way. The man further to the left, she shot, sending him flying off his chair. 4 men left. She aimed her gun at the next man, one to the right.

 

“I’ll ask again, where did they take him?!” She shouted, intimidating the men, but they didn’t crack. Not just yet. “Well, if this is the game you want to play”. Wynona shot the next man, and so they began to fall like dominoes. 3 left. “Do you all want to die? Because if you do, you might as well tell me now and stop wasting my time”

 

“We ain’t telling you nothing” the next man spat, his eyes glazed from the prospect of him dying this night. And he was right. The gunshot that echoed through the air proved it. 2 left.

 

“At this rate we are going to have to find him ourselves” Wynona was showing no mercy, which worried John and Charles, but she continued. The two men looked at one another, deciding who was going to crack, staring each other down to see their loyalty. “I’ll ask one more time, where is Arthur Morgan?” She leaned in, aiming the gun at the second last mans head. But nobody spoke. She pulled the trigger and sent him to the ground.

 

“They took him North to the base camp” he cried, covering his head with his hands with terror, “It’s a 30 minute ride. Please...please don’t kill me”

 

Instead of answering the man, she climbed back upon their horse and motioned for John and Charles to follow. They exchanged a look of worry that she was going off the rails, but she needed to find Arthur. Wynona rode as fast as the wind would carry her, desperately trying to calm her rampant thoughts. What if he was dead? What if he was alive, but injured? What if she had to watch him die. She shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts along with it. The thuds of hooves against the ground filled Wynona with fear, she knew they were almost at her destination.

 

It was dark out now, and through the clearing in a forest they saw glimmers of light. That must be them. Loud voices carried through the trees, and the Irish accent told her she was right. They jumped from their horses, suddenly overwhelmed at the amount of men around.

 

“Charles, go up on to that hill and cover me” She whispered, handing him her own rolling block rifle, powerful enough to wipe a man clean out in just one shot. “John, work your way around and make sure none of them stray from the centre”

 

“And what are you doing?” Asked John, quietly as to not alert the O’Driscoll’s. They both looked at her expectantly as she drew her trusty duel pistols, her go to weapon in big fights like these. A film of sweat covered her forehead at the prospect of sacrificing herself.

 

“I’m getting Arthur Morgan out of here” She gritted her teeth, shifting her eyes up to them from her gun. She extended her hand to Charles first, “You are good men. And great friends”. Charles took her hand before pulling her swiftly into a hug.

 

“Be safe, Wynona. You both need to get out of there” he mumbled into her coat, “I’ll keep you covered”. They pulled away and Wynona smiled, nodding towards him.

 

John then did the same, “Thank you, Wynona”.

 

She took a deep breath, readying her guns and waiting for Charles and John to reach their vantage points on either side of the camp. It was a massive camp, with easily 50 men scattered around the wooden structures. Arthur could be in any one of them.

 

Wynona stiffened her jaw, and began to run.

 


	18. A hole in the hand

Nobody noticed her at first as she ran from the darkness towards the first group of O’Driscoll’s. Using her pistols, she wiped them out swiftly, alerting all the other men to her presence. Which is when Charles began to shoot. Wynona trusted his shot, she didn’t exactly have much choice.

 

They slumped against the wooden bunker that nobody else was in, but now others began to shoot at her. Luckily she had things to shield her, but she was going to have to fight through the first wave of men. It was intense, and she was ever so slightly scared, but they were dumb.

 

She shot over the barrel she hid behind, Charles tried his best to wipe them, but she soon realised that if nobody was on their way to finish Arthur off, they would be now and so she jumped up, much to Charles shock and dismay, and began to run towards them all in a zig-zag motion, shooting blindly until she got closer, when she drew a stick of dynamite from her back and lit it, letting it linger in her hand for a moment, hearing the fizz of the wick in her hand, before throwing it at full force towards them and watching them panic. Before the dynamite exploded and bodies and blood went flying in all directions.

 

She continued to sprint down the straight stretch, shooting cluelessly and hoping she hit, keeping her head down and making sure her movements were unpredictable.

 

Arthur, on the other hand, slowly peeled open his eyes. Was this his rescue? He didn’t think he could last long. Explosions and gun shots were hefty, and he was almost scared he would get the brunt of it. He looked at the blood that dripped down onto the floor from the gunshot wound on his shoulder. This could be anyone, killing the O’Driscoll’s and then coming to kill him too. He had to get out of here.

 

He swung from side to side, the rope that bound his feet together squeaking under his weight. Being upside down didn’t do much for the senses. There was a knife on the table that was just out of reach, but if he swung he could make it. Using the rest of his remaining strength, he used his torso to swing, building up momentum slowly but surely. But as he finally went to grab the knife, it slid off the table and out of reach. He cursed himself, knowing that now there was no escape, he was too weak to reach up and untie himself. He wasn’t afraid of death, he was afraid of leaving Wynona behind.

 

The gunshots continued outside, and Wynona shot blindly, trying to hit anybody. Charles was doing a good job of wiping them out before the swarmed her. But as she ran by a corner, an O’Driscoll tackled to her, both of her pistols going flying in the opposite direction. She grunted as they both hit the floor harshly, fear flickering in her eyes for only a moment as she was stuck under him. His fists connected with her cheekbones, battering her face every with way. Cracks and clicks could be heard, and there was no getting him off of her.

 

Charles panicked, unable to see them behind the wooden structure. But John saw her from the woods, the final man, broken down and tired from the fight, now using his last ounce of strength to kill her with his own two hands. He could see the blood coming from Wynona’s face as he pummelled his fists into her face. A few heavy breaths left Wynona’s mouth as she desperately reached for the knife that was just out of reach. His eyes darted to her wriggling fingers, furiously. Only moments away from killing him, and he caught her.

 

He picked up the knife swiftly, using his fist to impale Wynona’s hand. She felt it come out of the other side. Charles and John both heard the wail in pain that left her mouth, making the birds fly from the trees. It was fuelled with agony. Her eyes brimmed with tears as the pain became unbearable. She gritted her teeth, screwing her eyes shut tightly, but in the rush of adrenaline that made her cry out in pain, she had no choice but to grab it forcefully and yank it. Another wail. Wynona writhed in pain, her legs kicking on the other side of the O’Driscoll.

 

She thrust it through his temple, watching the light leave her eyes from on top of her, before falling to one side, dead. Wynona lay on the ground for a moment, her face caked in blood and her hand warm and numb.

 

“Arthur?!” She shouted in the silence, standing up and hearing the quiet drip of blood on dirt. It ran down her fingers like a slide before landing on the ground below. “Arthur?!” Her voice became more desperate. But Arthur heard her.

 

“Wynona” he croaked out, his head tipped to one side, trying to stave the pain and blood. But it was no use, he was too weak. Arthur cleared his throat and tried again, “Wynona!”

 

Wynona’s eyes darted towards the underground bunker that was metres away from where she stood. Instantly, she ran towards the doors, soon realising they were locked. Charles finally reached Wynona and John, shooting the padlock open and watching the doors shake. Wynona could get the doors either, and so John and Charles pulled them open. She ran down the stairs to see Arthur hanging in his onesie.

 

“Oh, Arthur!” She exclaimed, grabbing the knife with her right hand and cutting right through the rope. He landed in his own blood with a thud. Wynona cradled him as he sweat furiously, shaking with his injuries. “You’re alright” she whispered in his ear, hoisting him up and throwing his arm over her shoulder. “Come on, we have to get out of here”

 

They dragged him up the stairs, and Wynona whistled on Apollo, listening as he grew closer. She squeezed his waist, clenching her jaw in an attempt to keep him upright.He was safe now, and that’s all that mattered.


	19. A song

They arrived back at camp, and Dutch stood up seeing Arthur on the back of Wynona’s horse. Dutch lay one eye on Wynona and knew she hadn’t got through it without a scratch. Her eye had began to swell already and the blood poured freely from her hand but that was the least of their worries. “Miss Grimshaw” She motioned for her as everybody began to crowd around Arthur.

 

He slipped off Apollo, his knees buckling from below him and Arthur fell to the ground.People tried to pick him up. The gunshot wound wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt. They took him to bed to begin healing him up, but Wynona didn’t follow. John did, but Charles and Wynona travelled to the aid wagon were bandages and painkillers would help stave the pain and bleeding from her hand.

 

“This’ll put you out of action for a week or two” he noted, grabbing her hand and inspecting. There was a hole straight through. It was worse than he thought. “You might have to go to the doctors, Wynona”

 

“If anybody has to go to the doctors, it’s Arthur. I’ll be fine” she insisted, but Charles wasn’t convinced, “Just...bandage it up. I’ll find time” Charles sighed deeply for he cared about Wynona, but knew she wouldn’t leave camp until Arthur was back on his feet, which wouldn’t be for weeks. “I really thought he was dead” Wynona buried her head into her hand.

 

“Well, thanks to you, he isn’t” He tried to comfort her. “This will hurt” he popped open the bottle of alcohol with his teeth, spitting the cork out onto the grass below. As he poured the liquid onto her very open wound, the stinging pain that went through her made her yelp out in pain, yanking her arm away from Charles violently. “Come on, this is the worst part. Better get it over with”

 

They sat down at the table across the other side of camp while Arthur was healing up. She kept a close eye on him. Javier sat down too. “Have I got an audience now?” Wynona tried to stifle a smirk.

 

“Unless you want to look like Frankenstein’s monster, I suggest you let me to the stitching. I mean, just look at Johns face” he chuckled, glad his friend was back safe.

 

Charles nodded, “Just let me do this first or it will get infected” he concentrated on clearing it up. Wynona winced once more, trying to contain the grunts that threatened to escape. “That should do”

 

Javier held a needle and thread and began stitching it up, poking the needle through the skin and pulling the thread through before pulling it taught. His breath on her hand soothed it slightly, but the pain still made her eyes water. “What you guys did was brave” he spoke quietly, his tongue sticking out as he concentrated. “Stupid...but brave”

 

“What I did was humane. It’s a shame Dutch can’t say the same” Wynona shook her head, still angry that he didn’t do more to help him. “It’s like he didn’t care at all. Arthur could have-...” she caught herself out before she spoke, not even wanting to think about the concept. “We are lucky we got to him in time, that’s all I’m saying. ouch!”

 

“Stay still!” Javier scolded her, pinning her hand down to the table as he finished up. “Don’t extend yourself while that heals, you hear?” He asked her as she stood up to be with Arthur, Miss Grimshaw was finished with him now.

 

“Loud and clear” she saluted sarcastically and walked off. Wynona didn’t know that Charles and John knew about the kiss on the dock last night when she confessed her feelings. She told him he loved him. And they watched.

 

Wynona sat on the chair Miss Grimshaw had been using to patch him up. He was sleeping. “He asked for you” Susan said from the table, packing up the things she had used. “But I told him you were busy”, she came over to Wynona and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “he’ll be okay, don’t worry. It’s pure what you two have” Miss Grimshaw smiled warmly before walking off to talk to Dutch who sat in his Dutch feeling sorry for himself.

 

Wynona sighed, rubbing a hole through her aching temples. She took the large hand that lay by his torso, wrapping her fingers amongst his. “I thought I’d lost you” Wynona spoke to him quietly, hunching over and gripping his unconscious hand like her life depended on it. “God..” she began to well up, “...I love you so much”. Arthur’s breaths were deep, careful almost. He was deep in sleep. She couldn’t embarrass herself in front of a sleeping man. The words came out smoothly, like they were made just for him. His collarbone was completely exposed, sweat still glistening on is feverish skin. The wound was stitched up and clean, at least it wouldn’t get infected. Arthur looked gaunt and pale, like he was seconds from death.

 

She bounced her leg up and down, deep in thought. There was no way she could let this all go on. Slowly, she let Arthur’s hand go and got the letter from her satchel, ripping it open furiously and reading every single letter and number on it. His will. Everything he once owned went to Wynona, no if’s, and’s or buts.

 

“Dutch” she grabbed his attention, “We need to talk” Wynona stood over Dutch as he stood on his chair with a book in his hand. “I have a proposal”

 

“What kind of proposal can you possibly offer me?” He asked sheepishly, “what’s mine is yours, child. I thought we had went over this”

 

Wynona pressed her lips into a thin line, “That’s not what I mean. Help me find the man who murdered my father and I will leave you $10,000 to get out of here and make a new life for this gang”

 

Dutch was taken aback, unable to speak. His eyes went wide at the very prospect at having that amount of money. “Wynona, I can’t take that amount of money from you”

 

“Dutch...” she stared into his eyes, “I will rob every Yankee around here blind until I find out who killed my father, but I can’t do it alone. Please, Dutch. I need this.” Wynona begged him, “I need some kind of closure on all of this. They will be coming for me”

 

Dutch shook his head with a sigh, “Okay. I accept. We will find these bastards, Wynona. By hook or by crook, I swear to you”

 

She smiled warmly, the hope returning to her eyes. “Thank you.” As she walked out of camp, she looked around, his run down this place was. Everybody was exhausted from running from the law. But Wynona wanted to change that.

 

“Are you okay, Wynona?” Asked Tilly as she walked by, concern deep in her eyes. Wynona looked down at her hand, her vision like a dream, Tilly sounded like she was speaking to her from above water. “Wynona?” Mary-Beth prompted when she failed to answer. Then she looked over to Arthur who lay motionless in his bed. This was all her fault, she thought.

 

“Fine” she smiled fakely, dragging herself back to reality. Her hand, it ached, but it was better than not there at all. That was odd, perhaps today had just been too much. As she sat back down beside Arthur’s cot, she got comfy, realising she would be spending a lot of time here until he recovered and was back on his feet. “Oh, Arthur” sighed Wynona, pulling the little piece of paper she had began to write on from her satchel. It was a song she had began to write, coincidentally, about Arthur. She smiled fondly at the thought of singing it to him one day.

 

 

She woke up in the morning with a fright, completely unaware that she dozed off in the first place. Arthur still lay in his cot, his chest rising and falling slowly but there had been a blanket placed over both Wynona and Arthur. By Charles presumably.

 

 

 

A few days later Arthur came around, much to Wynona’s delight. He seemed confused for a second, and the wincing pain in his right shoulder stopped him from sitting properly upright.

 

“You’re alright” she thrust a bowl of soup into his face, spoon feeding him until he insisted on feeding himself like the adult he was. Arthur hadn’t seen her injuries yet, and she was dreading the moment he did. “You scared me” she sighed deeply, “You scared us all”

 

Arthur tried to smile, “I wouldn’t leave you like that, kid” he insisted, finally his eyes fell upon her beaten face, swollen and an array of blues and purples. “What the hell happened to you?!” He exclaimed, his voice rough and cracking. As he examined her from his bed, he also saw her hand, “Wynona...”

 

“A small price to pay” she tried to laugh, but only looked away, it hurt to smile too much. Wynona hadn’t looked in the mirror to see the extent of her injuries, but when one of the girls would pass her in camp, they would look away in fear of offending her. “I’m glad you’re alright”

 

Arthur was angry, both at Wynona for getting herself hurt and the man who hurt her for what he did. But he was dead now. “How long have I been out?”

 

“A couple days. You haven’t to leave this bed for another couple weeks at least, you hear? The robbing and killing can wait” she insisted, handing him a cup of coffee. Her arm hooked around his back to help him up into a sitting position. Arthur’s stubble had began to grow longer, now all over his face in uneven patterns.

 

“Wynona, you look exhausted, go and get some rest” he motioned towards her sunken eyes rimmed with ruby. “Have you ate?” Arthur pitied her beaten face, and as did Wynona. She nodded, knowing it was a lie.

 

“It’s not me who needs rest” She noted duly. The book that sat beside his bed was one she had never seen before. “Have you been reading?”

 

Arthur looked over at it, wincing as he turned his neck. “No it’s there for decoration” he said, leaving a pause. He was going to say something else, but hesitated at first. “Sing to me?” He finally asked, leaving Wynona a bit shellshocked. “Please”

 

Javier guitar conveniently sat at the round table near Arthur’s tent. She grabbed it hesitantly, unwanting to embarrass herself. As she sat down on the chair, she looked at the same song she pulled from her satchel earlier, the crumpled paper making it hard to read.

 

“That Arizona sky burning in your eyes

You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire

It's buried in my soul like California gold

You found the light in me that I couldn't find” she began nervously, taking a moment to clear her throat and continue. Arthur smiled fondly.

 

“So when I'm all choked up

But I can't find the words

Every time we say goodbye

Baby, it hurts

When the sun goes down

And the band won't play

I'll always remember us this way”

 

“Lovers in the night

Poets trying to write

We don't know how to rhyme

But, damn, we try

But all I really know

You're where I wanna go

The part of me that's you will never die”


End file.
